The Guide to Doctoring
by Mandelene
Summary: There's an unspoken rule on campus—don't go to the university health clinic unless your life depends on it. So when Amelia Jones, a mediocre medical student, walks in and asks to work alongside Dr. Kirkland, the most skilled yet intimidating physician around, she becomes the laughingstock of her class. Now, she must find out if she really has what it takes to become a doctor.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This fic was requested on Tumblr by an anon who wanted to see Arthur as a university doctor. I don't know how long it's going to be just yet because I'm having a great time writing it so far and don't want to stop. We'll see where it goes!

Also, there isn't going to be any USUK in this fic. Those of you who have read my other fics know that I personally don't ship the two, so I just wanted to let everyone know that from the start. The relationship between Arthur and Amelia here is more of a mentor/pupil dynamic because that's how I like to write them, but if you ship USUK, that's cool and more power to you.

With that, enjoy the chapter and please leave a review to let me know what you think!

P.S. Writing female France is my new guilty pleasure.

* * *

 _"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."_ –Maya Angelou

* * *

Amelia has always believed that if you want to get ahead in this world, you have to have one thing above all else—empathy.

Some will say in order to get to the top, you have to be ruthless and push your way past the competition, and while that may be true in some cases, she has found that the best way to get opportunities to come knocking is by being kind and respectful to everyone that comes walking past. It's the little kindnesses that build up over time and can jumpstart one's career. Sometimes, you have to be nice even to the people who would love to see you crash and burn.

When she tells her friends and family that she wants to become a doctor, they all nod their heads and offer her polite smiles of encouragement before they turn their backs and start snickering. Amelia? A doctor? She was an average student in high school at best, and she didn't declare her major as pre-med until her third year of college, so she was already behind the rest of her peers. Though no one will say how they really feel to her face, Amelia knows that everyone expects her to fail. They're convinced she won't ever finish medical school, let alone complete several years of a residency program. They hardly believed she got accepted into medical school in the first place.

And so, when she struts into the health clinic at the university, looking for part-time work, almost all of her fellow classmates laugh and shake their heads once they find out. It's common knowledge that no one applies to volunteer at the school's health clinic unless they're at the top of their class because the physician that works there—Dr. Arthur Kirkland—is known for being the most unapproachable, cold-hearted man on campus, and only the cream of the crop even consider asking if they can help assist him in his work. He has a zero-tolerance policy for idiocy, and there are a number of urban legends and horror stories in constant circulation around the school from students who have worked for him. Apparently, he has made students cry and drop out of pre-med altogether because of how intimidating he can be.

That's not to say he isn't a good doctor. In fact, he's incredible at what he does, and a letter of recommendation from him can essentially secure a student placement into any residency program at any hospital of their choice. The problem lies in getting him to think you're just tolerable enough that he'll be willing to tell an admissions officer you're decent.

But Amelia isn't deterred by any of the rumors or drama. On one fateful Friday, she decides to go into the dreaded health clinic—a place where students go only if they feel as though they are on the verge of death because they don't want to be subjected to being put in the care of Dr. Kirkland, and they aren't willing to go to the hospital.

She holds her head high and strolls right on in, even though her twin sister and best friend, Madeline, tries to stop her. Maddie is a graduate student studying to become an English teacher, but even she has heard the tall tales concerning Dr. Kirkland, and she is genuinely concerned for Amelia's well-being. Although her school is in another part of the city, the girls share an apartment together. Thus, it was virtually impossible for Amelia to keep this a secret from Maddie.

"You can't go in there without sending an email or calling first! What if you don't come out alive? Don't go!" Madeline begs her, chewing nervously on her bottom lip when Amelia shakes off her concerns and gently removes her hand from her shoulder.

"I'll be fine, Maddie. I'm sure he's not as bad as everyone says he is."

"Stop trying to be the hero here. It's not going to work, and you'll just end up disappointed."

"I'm not trying to be a hero. I'm just trying to get a good recommendation letter."

"Yeah, and you really think the infamous Dr. Kirkland, of all people, is going to give one to you? He'll probably tell everyone _not_ to accept you."

"Well, I'll never know until I try, huh?" Amelia says with a wink, cheery-faced and bright-eyed.

"Fine, but when you come back to our apartment tonight, I'm not going to be handing you a box of tissues. I'll just say I told you so."

Amelia rolls her eyes at how dramatic her sister is being and continues on her way while Madeline stands outside the door to the health clinic, pacing back and forth.

The first thing Amelia notices when she walks in is that the place smells like a hospital, and she has to curl her nose up at the strong smell of hand sanitizer. It looks just like an ordinary doctor's office, except maybe it's a bit less cozy and inviting.

Then, she notices the receptionist—a girl who's a few years older than her and has her wavy dirty-blonde hair tied up in a meticulous bun. She looks up from her computer and frowns at Amelia.

"What can I do for you?" the girl asks.

"Hey, I'm a med student, and I was wondering if there were any open spots for a volunteer position or part-time job here in the office."

"Dr. Kirkland doesn't have any available spots at the moment. It may have escaped your notice, but a lot of people are vying to work here. You can send him an email and he'll get back to you," the girl says a bit rudely, and Amelia isn't surprised more people don't come in here for treatment when even the receptionist is unpleasant and sour.

"Right, well, could I talk to Dr. Kirkland myself, then?" Amelia presses on, knowing that she's not going to get anywhere if she lets herself be bossed around by this girl. "Call me old-fashioned, but I'd really rather talk to people in person than over email."

"He's busy."

"I can wait. When will he be available?"

"I don't know."

"You're the receptionist. How can you not know his schedule?"

The girl gets annoyed at the jibe, and she straightens her back and narrows her eyes impressively. "Look, I already told you, he's busy. Do you want me to call security?"

Just then, a door from somewhere down the hall opens, and sure enough, it's Dr. Kirkland himself. From behind him, a student limps out of the exam room and hobbles for the exit with a brief, "Thanks."

Then, Dr. Kirkland comes over to the receptionist's desk, looks Amelia up and down, and asks, "Are you a patient?"

Putting on her best smile, Amelia replies, "No, I'm actually looking for a position—"

"I'm extremely busy this time of year and don't have the will nor the patience to mentor another student at the moment," Dr. Kirkland cuts her off, and the receptionist looks smug as a result.

"If you're busy, then maybe you could use some extra hands?" Amelia suggests, trying to persuade the man to no avail. She's sure she's about to get told no again and possibly get yelled at, but then another student walks through the front door, and their conversation gets interrupted.

This time, it's a young man with doe-eyes and a faraway expression on his face. He looks very pale, and when he opens his mouth to say something, he promptly collapses backward, knocking into one of the chairs in the waiting room. They're all rattled at first, but Dr. Kirkland quickly reaches the student's side and kneels next to him. He tries to rouse the boy by shaking his shoulder carefully, and when his eyes open, he shines a penlight at one pupil and then the next.

Wanting to do something to help, Amelia crouches down on the opposite side of the boy's figure and asks Dr. Kirkland, "Should I bring him some water or juice?"

Absently, Dr. Kirkland shakes his head and takes hold of the boy's wrist, checking his pulse. "Lad, can you hear me? Can you say something?"

The boy groans a little and mumbles, "Yeah, I can hear you. Sorry...I just got dizzy for a second."

Dr. Kirkland presses a stethoscope to his chest, and when he's satisfied, he pulls it away and instructs, "Keep your head bent between your knees for a minute. Is that any better?"

"Yeah."

"Did you come into the office because you were feeling lightheaded?"

"No, I came because I've been throwing up for the past two days," the young man says with another groan, clutching his stomach.

Dr. Kirkland has him lie back again and presses a hand to his stomach. "Does it hurt when I do that?"

"Not really...Just sore."

"Have you been taking any medication?"

"No."

"Been drinking? You don't have to lie to me. I have no interest in reporting it."

"Not since last week."

Dr. Kirkland nods and runs his fingers over the back of the young man's head, checking for any welts from when he hit the chair, and as he's doing so, the student rolls over on his side and vomits on the floor.

"All right, then," Dr. Kirkland murmurs, patting the young man's back firmly. He turns to his receptionist and says, "Bring me a blood pressure cuff and a thermometer."

Except the receptionist is looking a little green around the gills herself at the sight, and she isn't able to move from her spot. So, Amelia raises her eyes and meets Dr. Kirkland's gaze before saying, "I'll bring them."

She stands up and hurries off to one of the exam rooms, assuming there must be supplies in there. She snags the blood pressure cuff from a little basket hanging on the wall, searches the drawer for a thermometer and finds it along with a box of disposable covers, and rushes back to the scene, handing over the supplies to Dr. Kirkland.

He takes the thermometer, slides one of the plastic covers onto it, and sticks it under the young man's tongue. As the reading is registering, he wraps the blood pressure cuff around the boy's upper arm and secures it with the Velcro strap before inflating the cuff and deflating it again.

The thermometer beeps, and Dr. Kirkland takes it back along with the blood pressure cuff. "You have a high fever and your blood pressure is low," he tells the young man as he takes out his penlight again. "Open your mouth...You're also quite dehydrated. I'm going to have you taken to the hospital to receive some IV fluids, all right? You should feel much better afterward."

The young man makes a noise of complaint, but Dr. Kirkland is already on the phone, arranging for help. In the meantime, Amelia sits by the student and tells him it's going to be fine—he'll likely be discharged by the end of the day if all goes well.

"Do you have a friend that can look after you when you get out of the hospital?" Amelia asks him gently, helping him sit up.

"Yeah, my roommate."

"Okay, want me to text him for you and explain what happened?"

"Would you?"

"Of course, no problem!" Amelia assures. "And your parents?"

"I'll tell 'em later. They'll freak out if I tell 'em now."

"Gotcha."

She gets the number to the student's roommate and puts it into her phone before hastily typing up a message, just as promised. When the text is sent, she makes some more calming small talk with the young man until Dr. Kirkland asks him if he can stand and helps walk him to the ambulance waiting outside. Amelia follows them, now emotionally invested in making sure the boy is put into good hands.

When the ambulance leaves, she lets out a sigh and is left feeling a little empty and worried.

" _Thank you."_

She snaps her head around to look at Dr. Kirkland and frowns. Did he just thank her? She's pretty sure this man hasn't thanked anyone in his entire life.

"Uhh, sure thing…Well, I guess I'll be on my way now. I'll let one of the custodians know about the vomit in the office," she offers before raising a hand to wave goodbye. She turns around and starts the long walk across campus back to her and Maddie's apartment when suddenly, she feels a hand on her shoulder stop her.

"Wait…You said you were looking for part-time work?"

Whoa. Is this really happening? She didn't _really_ expect to get a job at the health clinic. She just did it on a whim to find out for herself if the rumors about Dr. Kirkland were true. "Yeah, something to do on the weekends and in between my classes, you know…"

"You're a medical student?"

"Yup."

"Do you have your resume on you?"

She quickly reaches into the backpack hanging off her shoulder and pulls out a hot pink folder before holding it out to Dr. Kirkland. "Right here."

Dr. Kirkland takes the blindingly bright folder, pulls out the paper inside, and scans it with sharp eyes. Meanwhile, Amelia rocks back and forth on her heels, heart racing at over a hundred beats per minute. If she doesn't calm her nerves, she'll be the next one to collapse.

"I've never had anyone with a GPA lower than a 3.8 approach me."

Well, there goes her chance…

He peers over at her again for a long moment, as if debating something in his head, and at last says, "Very well, Ms. Amelia Jones. You can have a position at the health clinic if you agree to a few conditions. You must be punctual, you mustn't give me any additional work, and you must be willing to learn. Otherwise, you cannot work for me, is that clear?"

Swallowing down her nerves, she gives him a shaky grin and says, "Crystal clear."

He hands the folder with her resume back to her and smooths out his tie. "Good, I'll hold you to your word. Send me an email with your hours of availability. You can start next week."

Then, he briskly saunters off, and Amelia is left to stand, half-mortified, half-amazed, at his retreating form. Did that really just happen? Did she really just get a job from Doctor Freaking Arthur Kirkland that she can put on her resume and use to propel her into a kickass teaching hospital?

No point in getting too excited yet. Now comes the hard part—getting on the man's good side, if he has one.

She goes back home and tells the story to Madeline, who squeals with delight and makes a gigantic stack of blueberry pancakes drowned in maple syrup for them to devour in celebration.

"It's meant to be," Maddie insists, barely containing her excitement. "Just think, if that student hadn't fainted, you wouldn't have gotten the spot. If that's not fate, I don't know what is."

Amelia chomps on a pancake and shrugs her shoulders as she washes the bite down with chocolate milk. "We'll see. He could still decide to fire me, you know."

"No, he won't. Not when he sees how great you are with the students."

Maddie is probably the only person in this world who truly believes in her.

"Thanks, sis, but I don't think he has a high opinion of anyone, much less of me."

* * *

She starts on Monday, right after her morning biochemistry lecture. Her shift is only four hours long, which isn't bad or grueling by any means. It's fifteen bucks an hour, but she's more interested in the experience than the money anyway. After all, it's pretty much a given that she'll learn more from working here than she ever will in a class or from reading a textbook. Although she's already had a few clinical rotations, this'll be more hands-on, surely.

The unfriendly receptionist's name is Francine, and though she is snobbish and bitter and everything Amelia hopes she will never become, she is forced to put her differences aside and work together with her. Would it kill her to be a little more compassionate? All she ever seems to want to do is argue, which is weird because she is sickeningly sweet to all of the other students who cross her path. It seems the only person she can't stand is Amelia.

And Amelia swears she hasn't done anything mean-spirited to her. In fact, she even offered to buy the girl some coffee at one point, only to be flat-out rejected and given a sneer of contempt.

Whatever…You can't be friends with everyone, Amelia supposes.

Her first day is fairly standard. Francine is forced to give her a tour, Dr. Kirkland explains a few basics as to what her duties will be, and then Francine demonstrates how to use their computer system. Her Monday and Tuesday are spent handling paperwork and other menial tasks while Francine gets to shadow Dr. Kirkland and help him out in the exam rooms. It's then that Amelia realizes she's going to have to prove herself before she can get to interact with the patients.

But on the bright side, since Francine is already in her fourth year of medical school and is going to be at a residency program by next semester, her office hours are shorter than Amelia's. The girl usually has other things to do and seems to have at least somewhat of a social life, which is surprising considering medical school usually forces one to give all of that up.

Though Amelia is in the office every weekday except for Thursdays, Francine is only there Mondays and Tuesdays—a blessing, truth be told.

She also discovers that on the days Dr. Kirkland isn't in the office (Wednesday, Thursday, and every other weekend because he's at the hospital those days), another M.D., Gilbert Beilschmidt, is in charge, and he's just about the sweetest and funniest soul Amelia has ever met, even though he has an enormous ego and his banter knows no bounds.

This means when Wednesday comes around, it's just her, Dr. Beilschmidt, and two nursing students named Feliks and Toris, who work on the days when Francine is out. Feliks brings an exuberant air with him everywhere he goes, and Toris is a mousy, bashful boy who seems to be quite close to Feliks and is deathly afraid of Dr. Kirkland (but honestly, who isn't?).

When Amelia first introduces herself to the three of them, Dr. Beilschmidt shoots her a sparkly grin and says, "Congrats on getting past Kirkland, kiddo. We have a deal that I get to pick the nursing kids and he gets the med school kids. Even though I'm convinced nursing students are way cooler and more fun than your crew, I'm willing to give you a chance to prove me wrong."

She warms up to the quirky trio almost immediately, and it's such a breath of fresh air to know she'll get to work with Feliks and Toris whenever Francine isn't around.

Dr. Beilschmidt has a strict no-sitting-at-the-computer-for-more-than-two-hour-intervals policy, so Amelia finally gets the chance to follow around a real doctor and isn't subjected to just organizing files. He lets her watch him draw blood, give vaccines, and do physicals. The whole time, Amelia takes as many notes as possible, and when the office isn't busy, she gets the privilege of hearing Dr. Beilschmidt tell her stories from his own wild days in med school. Apparently, he was so nervous during his first clinical rotation that he blacked out while taking someone's blood pressure.

On Friday, Dr. Kirkland is back, and working for him turns out to be easier and more fun when Feliks and Toris are near. Oddly enough, Dr. Kirkland seems to at least somewhat enjoy their presence as well because he's not nearly as stern in front of them.

Feliks even calls him "Dr. K," and though the man doesn't seem to like the nickname, he tolerates it. Toris, meanwhile, hides behind the computer and acts ten times more sheepish than he usually does.

"Feliks, could you dress a wound in exam room one? Call me when you're done."

"I'm on it, Dr. K."

Feliks hurries off, and Amelia tries to look busy at the front desk, sorting through piles and piles of paperwork that she's honestly bored to tears by.

"Amelia?" Dr. Kirkland asks, suddenly approaching her.

She jumps out of her seat and mentally berates herself for being so skittish. "Yes?"

"Follow me. I want you to try taking a patient's history."

She takes in a deep breath through her nose, gets up, and obediently follows Dr. Kirkland down the hall and into the third exam room, mouth dry and tongue feeling like cotton. Well, she did want him to get her away from that darned desk, so this is what she gets.

He holds open the door for her, and she steps inside, ahead of him.

"Hi, there! I'm Amelia, a medical student," she greets the patient as soon as she walks in, not needing to be prompted.

The boy on the exam table this time is an undergraduate freshman, and the reason Amelia can tell is that he has a perpetually anxious look on his face. He hasn't settled into his environment yet. That, and his date of birth is in the chart Dr. Kirkland passes to her.

She glances at Dr. Kirkland to make sure it's okay for her to continue, and when he doesn't say anything, she skims through the chart more thoroughly and says, "Okay…It's Eduard, right? You're having chest tightness and it says here that you have asthma."

Eduard nods and lets out a small cough as Dr. Kirkland shuffles around through some cabinets and starts setting up a nebulizer in the background.

"When were you diagnosed with asthma?" she asks.

"When I was six."

"And how often do you use your inhaler?"

"About once a week."

Amelia frowns and takes some notes, adding a line that reads, "asthma not well-controlled." She then underlines it and goes on with her questioning. "Are you on a maintenance drug?"

"No."

"Do you take any other medication?"

"No."

She makes note of that as well. "Any other health problems besides asthma?"

"No."

"Did you use your inhaler today?"

"Yeah."

"And it didn't help?"

"No, that's why I'm here," Eduard says, letting out a wheeze.

"Do you smoke?"

"No, I'm not stupid."

Amelia flinches but keeps her smile intact. "Sorry, I have to ask. Do you know what might have triggered your asthma today?"

"I was jogging this morning."

At that, Dr. Kirkland pauses the interview to slide a mask over Eduard's nose and mouth. There's already a dose of liquid albuterol attached to the mouthpiece of the mask, and a second later, Dr. Kirkland flips on the switch of the machine and it rumbles to life, turning the medicine into a vapor that fills the mask and makes it steam up.

"Take slow, deep breaths," he instructs the boy. "Amelia will stay with you until I return in fifteen minutes."

Amelia nods at both of them and watches Eduard's chest rise and fall. Already, he seems to be breathing a little easier. Dr. Kirkland takes that as his cue to leave and shuts the door behind him with a click.

She has fifteen minutes to kill, and so, maybe a little conversation wouldn't hurt, even though she'll be the one doing most of the talking.

"He's not so bad, huh? Anyone who has to care for other people for a living can't be too mean, can they?" she asks playfully, not expecting an answer. "I bet I could get him to lighten up a bit with enough time. Just gotta make sure I don't get fired in the process, you know?"

Eduard scoffs and although his voice is muffled by his mask, she can hear him say, "Good luck."

"Thanks. Feeling any better?"

He nods.

"Good. I'm sure Dr. Kirkland will tell you this if he hasn't already, but you should take it easy on the jogging until your asthma is better controlled."

"He already told me."

Amelia smiles a new smile. "Of course he did. He'll probably want you to take a PFT after the treatment is done—Pulmonary Function Test, that is. I haven't learned how to read those yet though, so I won't be able to help you there."

After a few more minutes, the albuterol is nearly gone, and Dr. Kirkland sweeps back into the room to shut off the nebulizer and take the mask off of Eduard's face. Then, he puts his stethoscope on his back and asks, "How are you feeling? Any tightness still?"

Eduard takes in a deep breath and shakes his head. "It's a lot better."

"Take another deep breath…Sounds better."

"So, I can leave?"

"Not just yet. When was your last pulmonary function test?"

"I don't remember."

"In that case, I want you to have one done now," Dr. Kirkland decides, confirming Amelia's suspicions. He opens the door to the exam room again and calls out into the brightly lit hallway, "Feliks, PFT in room three!"

He turns back around, looks sharply at Amelia, and adds, "Go and observe so you can know how it's done."

A moment later, Feliks peeks his head in and says to the patient, "Why, hello there! Follow me!"

Amelia waits for Eduard to leave the room first and then trails after him, shoulders relaxed now that Dr. Kirkland isn't scrutinizing her. They go into a separate room directly across the hall, which is where they keep samples of medication and extra supplies. It's also where flu shots and other vaccines are stored, and apparently, there's been a computer along with everything needed to conduct a PFT here as well. How did she not notice that before?

"All right, first, you type in the patient's name, weight, and height," Feliks begins to explain to her, fingers tapping away at the keyboard. "Then, like, once everything is set up in the system, you click this button in the upper left-hand corner and give Eduard a sterile mouthpiece for the spirometer. I repeat, _sterile_. These things are disposable, got it?"

"Yup. Understood."

"Eduard, you're gonna hold the mouthpiece away from your face at first. You'll take in as big of a breath as you can, and then you put your lips on the mouthpiece and exhale for as long as you can, 'kay? Then, you take a second breath while you've still got the mouthpiece. Make sense?"

"Not really," Eduard replies, blushing and confused.

"It'll make more sense when you actually do it," Feliks promises before guiding Eduard through the test twice. Then, he saves the results on the computer, prints them out, and tells Amelia, "Hand this to Dr. K. And Eduard, you can come with me back to the exam room, buddy. Dr. K will read the results and get back to you in a few minutes."

Amelia grabs the PFT results, places them on top of Eduard's file, and finds Dr. Kirkland in his office at the end of the hall. He's typing something, and so, she leaves everything on his desk and heads out, figuring it'd probably be best not to make any remarks and distract him, but before she reaches the doorway, he raises a hand and beckons for her to come back, barely looking away from his screen.

She holds her breath and tries to keep her cool, but it isn't easy.

Dr. Kirkland finally regards her and says, "You failed to ask several key questions."

Oh, God, is she fired already?

"As a rule of thumb while you're still learning, remember _SOCRATES_ —Site, Onset, Character, Radiation, Associations, Time Course, Exacerbating or relieving factors, and Severity…Why aren't you writing this down?"

She pulls herself out of her shock and takes the notebook out of her back pocket, hands jittering. "Sorry."

"You should have asked when the asthma attack started, where specifically the tightness in his chest was, and when the last attack occurred."

"Right," she agrees a tad too quickly, revealing how flustered she is. "I'll remember for next time."

If there is a next time.

Dr. Kirkland nods and doesn't say anything else, and Amelia supposes that means she should clear off before this encounter gets even more awkward. She's tempted to run out of his office but keeps her cool just long enough to walk away at a socially acceptable pace.

That night, when she goes home and Madeline asks her how work went, she lies down in bed and covers her head with a blanket. So, this is what it's like to be in a work environment where your boss hates you. It's not a feeling she enjoys, surprisingly enough, and while she knows she's being dramatic, she also knows she can't afford to make any mistakes, no matter how minuscule they are.

"Bad day?" Madeline ventures to ask.

"Ughhh..."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it. Wanna watch T.V. with me?"

She uncovers her head and nods miserably before reaching for the remote. How is she going to be a doctor if she can't even stomach the scrutiny of her superiors? It's only going to get tougher from this point on.

Madeline lets her lean on her shoulder, and just for a moment, a giant weight gets lifted off of her, granting her momentary peace. What she needs now more than anything is sleep.

Her world can finish falling apart tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Hello, everyone! Here's the next chapter! Please leave a review to let me know what you think and if you want to see this continue (if not, I'll just make it a three-shot and leave it at that). Thanks for the support and enjoy!

Also, just a heads up that there are mentions of blood in this chapter.

* * *

 _A new week means a new start_ , Amelia tells herself as she walks into the office on another Monday morning. Today will be the day she proves her worth and makes sure that she dots every "i" and crosses every "t." Dr. Kirkland will be blown away by how great she is. She can already picture how she'll heroically appear at the scene whenever he requests help. Need a patient file? No problem. Want a history taken? Easy peasy. Ran out of supplies? Don't even worry about it.

That's what she tells herself until she realizes she's going to have to endure the company of Francine again.

Francine's bad attitude is the same it's always been, but Amelia does her best to tell herself not to be bothered by it. Today is _her_ day—her chance to shine. She's not going to let one person rain on her parade.

What she doesn't anticipate, however, is the problem that arises with the schedule in their computer system. Apparently, a number of students who had appointments for today were wiped from the timetable at some point over the last few days, and so, other students ended up being scheduled for the same time slot. Maybe it was a glitch in the system, but regardless of the cause, Dr. Kirkland ends up absolutely furious when he finds out he has to see almost double the normal amount of patients he normally sees in a day.

"How did this happen?" he demands to know when he sees the busy waiting room.

Francine, of course, takes the opportunity to blame Amelia for everything. "Well, I left Amelia in charge of updating the system," she says with feigned innocence.

Amelia's not sure how to defend herself without seeming like she's being disrespectful or unprofessional. If she accuses Francine of trying to sabotage her, that'll just start a fight and make matters worse. In the end, she mutters a feeble, "I followed the exact directions I was given," and leaves it at that.

She doesn't think Dr. Kirkland believes her because he snaps, "Ensure that it never happens again," and storms off.

There go her morale and her confidence.

It's a godsend when Wednesday finally arrives. She has missed Toris and Feliks, and when she's finally able to vent to them about how awful Francine has been to her, they assure her not to take any of it to heart—she's a competitive and evil person by nature, they say.

"She's also got, like, a _huge_ crush on Dr. K," Feliks whispers, covering his mouth with his hand.

Amelia makes a face. "Come on, he's almost old enough to be her dad."

Feliks shrugs his shoulders. "Some ladies are into older guys."

From beside them, Toris rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Don't listen to anything he says, Amelia. He's just trying to come up with new rumors again, so he can start some drama."

"I do _not_ start drama, and my thoughts on Francine are just based on observation. I had the displeasure of working with her for a bit until I asked Dr. K to move my schedule around. Best decision I ever made, y'know? There's a reason he hasn't hired anyone else to work alongside her until now," Feliks explains, twirling around in his swivel chair. "The truth will come out eventually, and it'll set us free, and all that other stuff."

Honestly, Amelia isn't sure what to believe anymore.

"What's going on? What did I miss? Why are we whispering?" Dr. Beilschmidt suddenly asks, popping up behind them with curious eyes. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing aside from the usual water-cooler trite," Feliks tells him wryly. "Whatcha up to, Dr. B?"

Dr. Beilschmidt plants himself in the nearest swivel chair, plays with the end of his tie absentmindedly, and says, "Just finished checking out a sinus infection. That's the highlight of my day…Hey, Amelia? Why the long face, kiddo? Are these boys bullying you again? I told them to behave."

Amelia forces a smile. Of all the people she knows, only Dr. Beilschmidt would call a twenty-two-year-old a kiddo. "No, it's nothing like that."

"Talk to me. I'm all ears."

"I don't know…I just feel like I can't do anything right anymore. I keep getting caught up in little things."

Dr. Beilschmidt gives her an encouraging pat on the back. "Aww, what are you talking about? I think you're doing a great job. After all, you've got the awesome me to guide you…Listen, kid, you're going to have to fall a few times before you learn how to walk. That's a part of life, but there's no shame in falling. We all do it. It'll get easier to keep your balance eventually, I promise. Just hang in there."

Why can't Dr. Beilschmidt be her sole mentor? She has learned so much from him already, and he never raises his voice or loses his temper.

She's starting to understand why people despise Arthur Kirkland.

And she's becoming one of those people.

* * *

"Hey, Maddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if we order pizza tonight?" Amelia asks, doubled over into the fetal position on her bed. She hasn't left her room since she got back from class, and while she should be studying for her upcoming developmental psychology exam, she can't find the willpower to even crack open her textbook.

"Sure," Madeline replies, but then she's standing in the doorway and frowning at Amelia like she ate the last pop-tart in the pantry again. "What's going on with you lately? You've been so depressed, and staying in bed like this all day isn't helping. You need to get out and do something—maybe take a walk or meet up with a friend."

"I don't have any friends. I had to cut off all connections with them after I got into medical school, remember?" Amelia groans, eyes closed.

"Get on Facebook and start reconnecting, then. I don't know—just do something," Madeline begs her. She tears the covers off of Amelia's bed and grabs her by the arm, tugging her out of her self-deprecation. "Come on. Get up."

"Nooooo."

"Stop this."

"Do you think I can drop out of medical school and study history or something else instead?"

Madeline sighs and releases her arm, letting it fall back onto the bed with a soft thud. "Why do you want to drop out of medical school after working your butt off to get in?"

"Because I'm going to be a bad doctor," Amelia mumbles, voice muffled.

"What makes you think that?"

"Kirkland hates me, and I'm starting to hate my job."

"You've only been there for two weeks. Give it more time before you decide to change your entire career path, you dummy," Madeline huffs, hands on her hips. "If you want pizza, you're going to have to get up, or else I'm not ordering it."

"You're so cruel!"

"We'll binge-watch _The Great British Baking Show_ in my room if you want. You love that show."

Amelia chokes out a dejected sob-like sound. "British accents remind me of work. I can't do it."

"We'll watch the Australian version, then."

"…Fine," Amelia concedes, rolling out of bed at long last.

Once she's up and on her feet again, Madeline laughs airily at her and says, "What would you do without me?"

"I'd be a med school drop-out studying history. Now, let's hope that pizza gets here in twenty minutes or less, or else I'm going to lose my mind."

* * *

One of the major downsides of working in a clinic is that Amelia always feels slightly ill. Not ill enough to have a fever or to have to call out sick, but just ill enough for her to be sniffling or be stuck with a scratchy throat. Feliks, Toris, and Dr. Beilschmidt all tell her this is normal—she can expect to be sick on and off again for the next few months until her immune system gets stronger.

In general, Amelia doesn't mind being congested every now and then or having to drink the lemon tea Maddie prepares for her in a giant thermos each day. It's not much of a nuisance until she has to start pulling all-nighters to study for exams, at which point, being even just a tad under the weather makes her twice as miserable as she would normally be.

Between attending classes, going to work, and studying, there isn't that much time left for self-care, even during the weekends. Thus, Amelia walks around in a half-dazed state most of the time, perpetually sluggish and tired.

Fortunately, her misery pays off, because when she gets her psychology exam back, she's happy to see an A at the top of the page—one of only a handful of A's in the class. Maybe she can salvage her GPA after all.

Not much changes over the following weeks. It's the same routine—she goes to class and then work. However, slowly but surely, Dr. Kirkland lets her start taking patients' vitals, which means she gets to make use of the stethoscope she normally brings to clinical rotations.

She's still not all that confident with taking a person's blood pressure, and Dr. Kirkland must notice because when he sees her fumble the first time she tries it, he shows her how to do it correctly and then makes her take the blood pressure of every patient that comes into the clinic for the rest of that week. It makes Amelia's anxiety skyrocket, but by Friday, she's a master at it.

In fact, things start to get better at the office in general. She feels a bit more relaxed, and while she still gets nervous when she's in direct contact with Dr. Kirkland, she's able to manage it a bit better.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end.

On Friday, a student comes in with a cut above their brow after stumbling and hitting their head on the coffee table in their dorm room—presumably after having had a few drinks. They show up with a pink-tinged washcloth pressed to their forehead, and Dr. Kirkland asks Amelia to come and observe as he brings the student into one of the exam rooms and has them lie back on the examination table.

He puts on a pair of clean gloves, takes the washcloth away, and reveals the cut—a long horizontal slice directly above the eyebrow.

There's _a lot_ of blood.

Like, _a lot, a lot._

Amelia doesn't consider herself a squeamish person. She's okay with watching blood get drawn and all of that other great stuff, but for some reason—a reason that is probably out of her control—the sight of this student's cut makes her feel sick to her stomach and lightheaded.

"It looks worse than it is. Cuts to the face normally bleed quite a bit, even if it's shallow," Dr. Kirkland explains before wiping away some of the blood and then dabbing at the wound with gauze that's been soaked with an antiseptic.

The student hisses as the cut begins to sting, and Dr. Kirkland mumbles something that sounds like it's supposed to be reassuring before he places two fingers on the still bleeding brow and says, "It's not gaping, so it won't require stitches. Some butterfly strips should suffice…Amelia?"

Amelia's pretty sure all of the color has drained from her face, and as she tries to say something to signal that she's okay, one of her legs gives out underneath her and she stumbles, barely keeping her balance.

Dr. Kirkland drops what he's doing, tears off his gloves, and then grips one hand around her upper arm while the other secures itself on her waist. He directs her to the rolling stool in the middle of the room and keeps his grip on her even once she's seated.

"Feliks and Toris!" he shouts sharply, and a moment later, the boys are rushing in, confused.

"Have Amelia lie down in the next room, please," he tells them.

Feliks frowns and then tries to lighten the mood by saying, "Whoops, we've got a fainter, huh? Come on, sweetie."

He replaces Dr. Kirkland's grip on her arm and waist while Toris holds open the door and runs ahead of them to get the other exam room ready. Once he has replaced the crinkly paper on the exam table with a clean sheet, they help Amelia sit and then lie down.

"Bring your knees up to your chest," Toris tells her.

Meanwhile, Feliks looks into her eyes and smiles reassuringly. "I'll get you some juice."

God, her head _hurts_. She's all clammy and coated in sweat, but slowly, the dizziness starts to dissipate, and she starts feeling like herself again. Feliks comes back with some orange juice and a straw, and she manages to take a few sips.

"Please tell me I didn't just almost pass out in front of Kirkland," she groans, covering her eyes with her arm in shame. "Well, I'm definitely fired now."

Feliks chuckles. "You're not going to get fired over _that_. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but collapsing at the sight of blood definitely counts as part of the whole 'making his job more difficult' condition that he made me agree not to do," Amelia explains, feeling incredibly embarrassed. She should get up, pack up her things, and leave before Dr. Kirkland fires her in front of everyone.

She tries to sit up, but Feliks holds her down and shakes his head. "Don't move. If you try getting up, then he'll really be mad."

There's a knock of warning on the exam room door, and then, Dr. Kirkland invites himself in. He looks at Feliks and Toris and says, "Thank you both. I'll take it from here."

 _Oh, God. Please, no. This can't be good._

The boys flash her matching smiles, and then make their retreat, even though she wishes they would stay. They close the door behind them, and then it's just her and Dr. Kirkland.

She feels like she might be sick.

"I'm sorry," she says, deciding that it's probably best to apologize before he gets the chance to say anything or yell at her. It might mitigate his anger.

"You don't have to apologize…I didn't stop feeling ill around blood until a year or two after my residency," he says with a little frown. Then, he takes hold of her wrist and feels for her pulse.

Her heart is beating so fast she can feel her chest trembling.

"My, your heart rate is high," he murmurs before placing his stethoscope under her shirt and on her chest.

She might die here. Die from humiliation, that is.

"I feel fine," she insists, swatting at the end of the stethoscope before sitting up. "It won't happen again."

Dr. Kirkland narrows his eyes skeptically at her.

"It's fine," she repeats, but now her hands are shaking, too.

"Just hold still for a moment and prove it to me, then."

Biting her lip, she resignedly lies back again and lets him finish examining her. The tables have turned, as now she is the one who gets to have her blood pressure taken.

"Now, was that so difficult?" Dr. Kirkland asks a little teasingly when he's sure she's going to be okay, and Amelia can't stand the condescending smirk on his lips. "Finish drinking the rest of that," he orders, pointing to the half-full cup of orange juice still in her hand, "and if you don't feel lightheaded anymore, you can return to work."

There's a flash of concern in his eyes that she's never been a witness to until now. It only lasts a moment, and then, he's out the door and back to tending to the students, leaving her in the silence. She lets out a heavy sigh and buries her face in her hands, feeling like an idiot.

Later that night, when Madeline asks her how her day went—she asks every day without fail—Amelia will strain a smile and say, "It was just fine. How's that paper about Kafka that you've been working on?"

" _I am a cage, in search of a bird_."

"Huh?"

"It's a Kafka quote, and that's my annoying way of saying it's not going all that great," Madeline clarifies, pouring some milk into a saucer and setting it on the stove. "But I'll figure it out eventually. Want some hot chocolate?"

"I'm sure it'll work out, and yeah, of course."

"Whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a jumbo marshmallow, too?"

"Yes. Thanks for being my sister, Maddie."

Madeline gives her a funny look and giggles. "Well, I didn't choose to be your sister, you know, but you're welcome anyway, I guess. What prompted your sudden words of affection?"

"I just want you to know I appreciate you. It's good to know we'll always have each other."

"I appreciate you, too, even though you're crazy sometimes, and you never vacuum when I ask you to."

* * *

All eyes are on her when she walks into biochemistry lab. Apparently, people have been talking, as they always do, and she has been on everyone's radar.

 _"She's not even that smart…"  
_

" _Does she even want this?"_

What is this? High school? She thought those days were over, but, as it turns out, med school is full of cliques and study groups that exchange test bank questions every week and talk crap on social media about one another. It's a dog-eat-dog world. One moment, you're convinced someone is your friend because they sent you a pdf of a textbook, but then they'll turn around and silently hope you'll fail the next exam so the competition gets filtered out. They'll never say it directly, of course.

The girls sitting at the table in front of her try to make it seem like they could be talking about anyone, but she knows she's their target. Perhaps it's envy that makes them whisper these things, or maybe they're just trying to intimidate her. Either way, it's not going to work.

It's a four-hour long lab class, which means Amelia always wants to rip her hair out by the end of it. She follows the lab manual instructions to the letter and works quietly. Her partner isn't here today—must be out sick. Scratch that, he must be _really_ sick to have decided not to come to lab. He's going to have a ton of work to make up. Plus, two absences are all it takes to get one kicked out of the program entirely.

"I'm going to hand back your quizzes now," the professor suddenly announces.

Amelia tries to calm herself as she watches the papers get passed out. Either she did great or she flunked the quiz entirely. There's never a middle ground in medical school. She waits and waits for what feels like an eternity—the quizzes don't seem to be in alphabetical order—until finally…

She takes her quiz back with a clammy hand and wants to cry tears of joy when she sees the grade. It's a solid B. She'll take it. She _despises_ biochemistry, so this B is glorious. It's going up on her and Maddie's fridge tonight.

She stuffs the exam in her folder and immediately hides it in her backpack. She doesn't need any nosy students to see it.

"Just a friendly reminder that we have our midterm next week. The questions on the exam will be similar to the quiz questions, so I would advise you to review them."

Oh, _midterms_. They're going to be the death of her this semester if she doesn't do some serious studying. Midterms are worth half of her grade in most of her classes, so she has to make sure she does well on all of them.

She's not the only one stressing about exams, though. When her lab class ends and she heads over to the clinic, she sees Feliks and Toris sitting at the front desk with piles of books and stray notes beside them. According to Feliks, they have permission from Dr. Kirkland to study during their shift as long as they've taken care of all of their work and aren't needed by him or one of the patients.

And, since the clinic is fairly quiet today, they have the added benefit of being able to utilize their most valuable study tool yet—Dr. Kirkland himself.

"Hey, Dr. K? Can vision loss be an early sign of MS?" Feliks asks as the man's going through a patient's file at the front desk.

"Yes," Dr. Kirkland replies half a second later. "MS causes the optic nerve to swell."

"One more question, do you get decreased grip strength with osteoarthritis?"

He thinks for a moment longer this time and then answers, "It's possible, but that's more common with rheumatoid arthritis. Osteoarthritis causes crepitus, which is the grinding or popping that occurs when the joint is moved."

Amelia finds it hard to believe how nonchalant Feliks can be around Dr. Kirkland. Normally, she wouldn't dream of asking the man a question or for help with something. He makes it so hard to approach him.

When the man is out of earshot, Amelia turns to Feliks and finds the nerve to ask him, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Feliks wonders.

"You know, _talk_ to him like that?"

"He's only tough on the outside. He's in his own world a lot of the time and doesn't realize he's being cold," Feliks explains softly. "If you do what you're supposed to, he'll notice and treat you well."

"So what about all of those people who dropped out of pre-med and medical school because of him?"

Feliks laughs and spins around twice in his swivel chair. "If they dropped out because of _him_ , then they weren't ready to be doctors anyway. Believe it or not, he's not going to be the toughest person you meet in your career. Wait until you have to work under an attending physician, girl."

"But…He treats you different. He likes you. He hates me. He's always standing over me and breathing down my neck," Amelia mumbles, wanting to trust in Feliks' opinion of the man but still not convinced.

"I've been here a lot longer than you. You'll grow on him. Don't worry. He's not exactly a people person unless it relates to treating disease, which you could probably already tell. I've been trying to get Toris to lighten up around Dr. K for a long time now. He's never said a mean thing to the kid, and he's still terrified."

"No, I'm not!" Toris cuts in, putting on his bravest face. "I just like to keep my distance, okay?"

Amelia shoots Toris a smile and pats his knee. "I'm with you on that one, Toris."

"Come on, it's not like he's going to bite your heads off, guys," Feliks assures.

"There's still time," Amelia huffs.

* * *

The following week, she pulls two all-nighters in a row and somehow doesn't die. It's a miracle, but when she walks into work after almost a full 48 hours of zero sleep, she can barely keep her head up without straining the muscles in her neck and making her head hurt.

"One midterm left," she tells Feliks and Toris, collapsing in a chair next to them. "I feel like a zombie. Is this even real life anymore?"

The boys gape at her and tell her she looks awful, but she promises that she's going to go straight to bed after work tonight—but maybe if she's able to, she'll spend one more hour studying.

She finishes taking a girl's blood pressure, writes the result in her chart, and then walks out into the hallway, bumping into Dr. Kirkland in the process because her reflexes are shoddy at the moment.

"Sorry about that," she grumbles, and Dr. Kirkland raises an impressive eyebrow at her.

"Is everything all right?"

"Dandy."

"You know, I think it's safe to say you won't pass your exam if you fall asleep in the middle of taking it," he chides her, forehead creased.

"I won't fall asleep," she promises sluggishly, eyes half-closed.

"Right, then…A patient is in septic shock. What comes first? A blood culture, IV fluids, or antibiotics?" he asks, testing her.

"Antibiotics."

"Incorrect," he replies, glowering. "And I would explain why that's incorrect if you were alert enough to understand it."

Okay, so he proved his point. What more does he want? She'll go to bed soon. Her shift ends in thirty minutes anyway.

"You'll do better if you get a proper night's rest," he emphasizes one last time before heading into one of the exam rooms.

She stands in the hallway for a full minute, almost falling asleep while standing up before finally shaking herself out of her stupor and heading back to the front desk.

When she returns to the apartment that night, she pulls out her laptop and tries to study in bed, but halfway into taking notes about the respiratory system, she starts thinking about Eduard and her first days in the clinic. She thinks about how his wheezing evened out into slow, rhythmic breaths, and then, she, too, is taking slow breaths, until finally, her head lolls onto her shoulder and she falls asleep, laptop still perched on her legs.

* * *

She has never been this excited for a Monday. Now, that her exams are finally over, she doesn't care that she has to go into the clinic and put up with Francine's sassiness and backtalk. She's just glad that hell has temporarily frozen over until finals come around.

Speaking of Francine…

The shift starts off normally. It's a bit busy, and so Amelia spends a lot of time bustling back and forth between exam rooms and only occasionally returns to the desk to handle the administrative work.

Around an hour later, however, Francine's cellphone rings while there are patients in the waiting room. She seems to debate with herself whether or not she should take her phone out of her bag to check who it is, and, in the end, her curiosity wins out, so she looks at the caller ID. Amelia watches the confusion cross her face.

Francine picks up. " _Allô? Maman?_ "

Then, she's rushing out the door to the clinic, speaking in rapid French as she goes. As the door shuts to a close behind her, her voice gets drowned out in the distance, and Amelia is left puzzled herself, and, truth be told, a little worried.

" _Francine!"_

Amelia blinks twice and calls back to Dr. Kirkland, "What do you need?"

" _I can't find the bacitracin_. _"_

"I'll find it," she says, heading for the supply room and meeting Dr. Kirkland there. She helps him search through each of the drawers and cabinets. She just saw the single-use packets of bacitracin the other day, but they recently reorganized everything, so some things aren't in their usual place.

"Where's Francine?" he asks as he opens another cabinet, sounding irritated. It's been a hectic day so far. Amelia can't blame him for being short-tempered.

"Uhh, she had to step out for a moment to take a call."

"In the middle of work?"

"It sounded important. I think it was her mom…Here it is," she says, pulling out a box. "How many do you need?"

"Just two."

He takes the packets from her and starts to make his way back to the patient he was with, when suddenly, Francine comes storming back inside, tears rushing down her face. She's hysterical—hands shaking and sobs cutting through her breaths.

Dr. Kirkland pauses mid-step in the hallway to ask, "What's wrong?"

Francine can barely calm down long enough to speak, so Dr. Kirkland puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her over to his office at the end of the hall to talk to her in private. Amelia can hear a few parts of their conversation.

"… _accident…in the hospital...have to leave…"_

To which Dr. Kirkland responds, " _Yes, of course, dear…Go, and keep me notified._ "

Dear? Something must really be wrong if the man has resorted to pet names.

And then, Francine rushes back to the front desk and starts gathering her things, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and smudging her mascara.

"Francine? Whatever's going on, I hope it all turns out okay," Amelia tells her as she's tossing her belongings into her designer bag.

Francine stops to look at her for the briefest second, and says weakly, "Thank you."

Not a minute later, she's out the door and out of sight.

Amelia frowns, and although she knows it's not her place to get involved in the personal matters of others, she can't stop her brain from going through multiple possibilities as to what's going on. She stares at the front door to the clinic, as if the answer will be waiting there for her.

"What was that all about?" she asks Dr. Kirkland as they exchange looks of intrigue with one another a little while later.

Dr. Kirkland hesitates, clearly not sure about whether or not he should be giving away such information, and so, he settles on merely mumbling, " _automobile accident_ ," before spinning around on his heel and heading back to his patient.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Hello, everyone! So, I've decided I'm going to continue this story because I have a lot more planned for it, and I don't want to put it aside just yet. Thank you for the feedback and lovely reviews! I really appreciate them!

Enjoy!

* * *

Francine doesn't return to work the next day or even the following week. In fact, Dr. Kirkland tells Amelia she shouldn't expect to see the girl until after New Year's, which might as well be ages away.

A little bit of digging reveals that Francine's boyfriend was the person who was in a car accident, and thus far, he's still in critical condition.

As much as Amelia has harbored a sense of loathing for Francine and has felt disrespected by her on a number of levels, she feels terrible for the girl. No one deserves to have to see their loved ones in harm's way. She wishes she could take back all of the ugly thoughts and assumptions she made about Francine, especially how part of her actually believed the rumors Feliks shared with her a few weeks ago.

She's such a hypocrite. How can she claim to be an aspiring, empathetic doctor when she can't even show empathy toward her co-workers? She barely knows Francine, so what right does she have to be making judgments about her? Her guilt grows like a balloon in her stomach, and she hopes she can still redeem herself somehow. In the course of a few weeks spent here at the clinic, she's lost sight of her values.

"Do you think you'll be able to handle the workload on Mondays and Tuesdays alone?" Dr. Kirkland asks her solemnly when it's clear Francine won't be coming back anytime soon. "I apologize that it's such short notice. I can ask Feliks or Toris if they would be able to change their schedules."

Although the thought of working with Dr. Kirkland without any backup terrifies her, Amelia knows she needs to take on her new role gracefully if she wants to rise through the ranks. So, she holds her head high despite wanting to run in the opposite direction and says, "No problem. I can handle it."

"You're certain?"

"Yes."

"All right, it's settled, then."

Her first few shifts alone turn out to be not as terrible as she expected them to be. Dr. Kirkland stops hovering around her so much, and Amelia isn't sure if it's because he's starting to trust her or if he's simply too busy to constantly be checking up on her. Regardless of the reason, it's a welcome change, and since she doesn't have anyone to talk to at the front desk, she ends up interacting a lot more with the patients.

One female student walks in complaining of chronic fatigue and occasional bouts of dizziness. Amelia takes her to one of the exam rooms to take down her height, weight, and vitals—the usual—but then, something odd happens.

"Could I get some ice?" the girl asks, smacking her lips. "I really need to chew on something."

Amelia pauses and drops the pen she was using to write in the girl's chart. Ice? That's an odd request. The girl doesn't have a fever, so what's her deal?

"Sure thing."

She's not sure if this tidbit has anything to do with the girl's illness, but she has a sneaking suspicion it does. Therefore, on her way back from the ice machine down the hall, she stops Dr. Kirkland just before he goes into the exam room and warns him, "She's craving ice."

He quirks a brow at the news and stares at the cup in her hands, eyes narrowed. "In that case, we may already have our diagnosis," he says, motioning for her to follow him into the room.

They go inside, and Dr. Kirkland shakes the girl's hand by way of greeting before asking, "What seems to be the problem today?"

"I've felt really tired and out of it for the past two weeks," the girl mumbles, taking the cup of ice from Amelia and biting down on one of the cubes.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions and do a brief physical exam, if that's all right. Do you mind if Amelia, our medical student, observes?"

"That's fine."

Dr. Kirkland nods and goes straight into his list of questions. "Are you on any medication at the moment?"

"No."

"Any changes in diet or sleep habits?"

"I've been having trouble sleeping."

"Any recent stress?"

"I'm always stressed," the girl jokes.

"Any other symptoms?"

"Umm," the girl says before her cheeks flush. "Well…"

"Yes?" Dr. Kirkland prompts her. "There's no need to be embarrassed. I've heard it all."

The girl nods and lets out a nervous laugh. "My—uhh—period has been heavier."

Dr. Kirkland makes note of that in her chart before listening to her heart and lungs. Then, he asks the girl to look straight ahead and pulls down each of her eyelids in turn. Amelia's not sure what he's looking for, but it must be something specific because she hasn't seen him do this to a patient during any of the other physicals she's observed.

He also looks at her fingernails—which Amelia hasn't seen him do before either.

"Are you by any chance a vegetarian?" he asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, from the symptoms you're displaying, it sounds like you may have an iron deficiency—anemia. It's quite common in individuals who don't consume meat."

"But I try to eat a balanced diet."

"I'll draw your blood, send it to the lab, and make sure a complete blood count is done. Then, we'll be able to say with certainty whether you have any vitamin or mineral deficiencies. You should have the results in a few days. Until then, I'd suggest you try incorporating more iron-rich foods in your diet—spinach, broccoli, and lentils are just a few examples. "

"So I can still be a vegetarian?"

"Yes, of course, you'll simply have to be more conscientious of how you replace the nutrients you would normally receive from meat. Depending on the blood results, you might also have to take some additional iron supplements for a period of time."

Amelia watches him take the girl's blood, and fortunately, she doesn't make a fool of herself by collapsing this time. Then, before long, the girl is thanking them and heading out the door.

Once she leaves the clinic, Dr. Kirkland stops Amelia briefly in the hallway to say, "PICA—a craving for strange, otherwise, inedible objects or things—is a textbook symptom of anemia. In this case, that craving was ice."

Of course, he knew what was wrong with the girl just from that one detail. It makes Amelia a little envious of him to know that he's so good at catching these bits of information when she still has so much left to learn.

"Also, conjunctival pallor—the inside of the eyelids in anemic patients are pale and white when they should be hemoglobin red. Upward curved fingernails are another indicator."

Amelia whips out her pocket-sized notebook and takes meticulous notes, because she's certain that this is bound to come up on one of her exams at some point or another. There's so much to know, and she's not sure how it can be possible to fit so much information into a single brain. How do doctors remember all of this? And even if they are able to remember it, how are they able to call forth that information when they're with a patient or have an emergency on their hands?

Dr. Kirkland must be able to read her mind because he adds, "It comes with experience. Don't fret."

He says it as an offhand comment, but the reassurance makes Amelia's breath catch in her throat anyway. She'll take every bit of encouragement she can get.

Maybe there's hope.

* * *

Somehow, Thanksgiving comes and goes in the blink of an eye.

Amelia and Madeline spend the four-day weekend together, seeing as they cut off ties with the rest of their family a long time ago. Amelia really doesn't like to dwell on the details, but most of what she remembers from her broken childhood includes constant fighting between her mother and father followed by an ugly divorce. Their household was a toxic environment at best, and so, moving out to New York from Los Angeles was one of the hardest yet most important decisions she and Madeline ever made together. While things haven't always been perfect since then, they're managing, and that's the best they can ask for at the moment.

Amelia suggests they order takeout for Thanksgiving dinner because she doesn't see the point in preparing an entire turkey for just two people. Besides, she doesn't care all that much about tradition. What's most important to her is getting the chance to spend some quality time with her sister.

But Madeline, a stickler for celebrating the holidays the "proper" way, spends the morning and afternoon working hard in the kitchen despite her protests. Amelia does her best to help out by preparing the stuffing and pumpkin pie, but waiting to eat is agony. Her mouth waters as she watches the crust of her precious pie turn gold in the oven, hoping that it ends up perfect so that Maddie won't accuse her of ruining Thanksgiving—except, knowing her sister, she'd probably say it in a more passive-aggressive kind of way.

There's something so soothing and oddly fun about cooking with her twin. She can't explain it, but there's a peculiar warmth in her chest and cheeks that makes her feel like she's exactly where she belongs.

"Did you get an update on how Francine is doing?" Madeline suddenly asks her as she's peeling some sweet potatoes.

"Not really. Kirkland hasn't said anything, except that she won't be back for a while."

"That's really sad. What horrible timing, too—right before the holiday season."

"Yeah…"

"I'm sure this is going to set her back in her graduation plans."

Amelia hasn't really considered that point, but it's true, and, honestly, it's unfair. Francine's grades are probably better than hers, and she's clearly committed to medicine because she pours her heart and soul into it, so how come the universe decided to strip all of that from her?

Madeline goes on to say, "You know, I've realized why I could never work in medicine."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't wrap my head around having someone else's life in my hands, and I would never be able to trust myself with that kind of enormous responsibility. My abilities would be determining whether or not someone's parent, or child, or best friend lives."

Amelia bites her lip and feels her mouth become dry. "Wow, thanks for _not_ making me feel like I'm under pressure or anything," she says sarcastically.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean for it to scare you," Maddie murmurs as she finishes peeling the last potato and goes to the sink to wash her hands. "I just…I've been thinking a lot lately about why we choose the careers we do, and what they say about us as people, if they say anything at all."

"Does this have something to do with that Kafka thesis you're still working on?"

Madeline smiles upon being caught. "Yeah, maybe…But it really got me thinking about how I view myself. I discovered I don't trust myself enough to be someone else's lifeline, but it must be different for you because otherwise, you wouldn't be in medical school or working at that clinic."

"Well, I'm far from being an actual doctor still, so I haven't had my obligatory existential crisis yet, though it's definitely waiting for me on the horizon," Amelia retorts, feeling a little anxious all of a sudden. "I'm hoping I'll be able to trust myself with other people's lives someday, but who knows? Every day I worry I'll realize maybe this isn't for me, and I'll have wasted years of my education in the process, you know?"

"If you ask me, I think you're going to be a great doctor, and I can't imagine you being anything else," Maddie says with a frightening amount of confidence.

"Don't say that. I want to believe I can still drop out and become a weatherwoman or something."

Madeline laughs and shoots her a funny look before finally opting to placate her, "Okay, okay. We don't have to talk about our futures anymore if it makes you uncomfortable. We just need to wait for these potatoes to finish baking and then we can eat and binge-watch something."

"Can we have a movie marathon?" Amelia asks.

"Do I get to pick at least some of the movies?"

"Yeah, but none of that sad, heart-wrenching stuff you like so much. It's Thanksgiving and I wanna feel happy for a while."

"Fine. It's a deal," Maddie agrees.

* * *

Four days is not nearly long enough of a break, in Amelia's opinion. She could've done with another week off from work and school at the very least. Yet another Monday means that she's alone at the clinic with Dr. Kirkland again, and that's bad news for her because he seems to be in a bad mood.

It starts with a phone conversation he has in his office that goes something along the lines of, " _For the last time, Allistor, I don't know what's wrong with Mittens. Take your cat to the bleeding vet. If you don't want to pay its medical bills, then you shouldn't be a pet owner…No, it's not the same thing as human illness…If she were human, which she isn't, I would say she has gastritis. Tell the vet to give her anti-nausea medication...Force feed her water if you must…Don't ask for my advice if you aren't going to utilize it anyway! I have actual patients to return to—goodbye."_

Needless to say, the phone call leaves him agitated, and once he's annoyed, it becomes all too easy for him to get even more frustrated when a student comes in faking a cold and sore throat to get a note to excuse them from class so they can retake their test on another day. One of Dr. Kirkland's biggest pet peeves is when people waste his time when he could be using that time to help someone in actual need.

Those two incidents leave him sullen for the rest of the day, and Amelia ends up being a target for some of his anger when she goes up to him to tell him that part of the university's administration will be stopping by soon to evaluate the state of the clinic and how it has been operating.

"The last thing I need is for them to stop by and request more paperwork to be filled out," he growls, rubbing at his forehead from behind his desk. "Did you figure out what day works for you for the staff meeting we're required to have with Beilschmidt and the others at the end of the semester?"

"Not yet, because my clinical schedule—"

"Well, how much longer do you plan to leave me waiting with bated breath before—!" he stops himself short and sighs. "I'm sorry. It's been a trying day."

Amelia frowns at him and says nothing.

"I know that's not an excuse," he adds, anger deflating. Is it just her, or does he actually seem to shrink under her gaze?

For the first time, she sees the man look ashamed and bow his head in defeat. When did he come to respect her enough to know when to back down and apologize?

"Here I am scolding you when I should be thanking you."

He's delirious, isn't he? Maybe that's why he's been acting odd. He must be sick. She's pretty sure Arthur Kirkland doesn't express gratitude or appreciation for anyone.

"You've been a great help," he says.

Her heart skips a beat, and she tries not to look too elated. This is the first compliment he's ever given her. Holy crap. This must be some kind of twisted dream.

Discreetly, she pinches her arm to make sure she's awake…Yup, definitely not asleep. This is as real as reality gets.

"My pleasure," she finally replies, managing a tiny smile.

And then, she bolts out of his office and gets back to work because she can't handle the thought of being praised by the man she had begun to hate just a little while ago. Maybe the urban legends about Kirkland were wrong all this time. Maybe he's really not that bad. Maybe, just maybe—somewhere deep, deep, _deep_ down—he has, dare she say it, a heart.

* * *

Something's wrong with Toris.

While the boy is generally fairly quiet, on Wednesday, he's absolutely silent. Not even Dr. Beilschmidt can get a word out of him.

Feliks says it's because he didn't do as well as he would've liked on his head-to-toe nursing assessment at clinicals, and so, he's been moping and sulking ever since.

"He ate a whole box of Oreos by himself yesterday," Feliks whispers to Dr. Beilschmidt, and that's when the man decides that he's going to have to stage an intervention.

Dr. Beilschmidt walks straight up to Toris, plants a stern hand on his shoulder, and says, "Snap out of it, kid. It was one exam, and you'll do better next time. You can't learn from this if you keep feeling sorry for yourself…Come on, while the clinic is empty, get up and let me see you assess one of these other kiddos over here."

"Not me!" Feliks shouts, hopping out of his chair and taking a few steps back. "I've been the guinea pig way too many times. Make Amelia do it."

"Okay, Amelia, let's go. Bring your chair over here and let Toris work his magic," Dr. Beilschmidt announces, and Amelia just barely manages to suppress a groan.

Obediently, she scoots over to where Toris is sitting and leans back, allowing herself to be experimented on. At first, Toris refuses to move, head buried in his arms, but after another pep talk from both Dr. Beilschmidt and Feliks, he's able to compose himself enough to take Amelia's vitals. He does fine on that part, and he gets through most of the cardiovascular and respiratory parts with flying colors. In fact, he does well on everything—asks the right questions, is able to examine Amelia's eyes, nose, ears, and throat like he's supposed to, and describes what he's checking for perfectly.

So neither Dr. Beilschmidt nor Amelia herself can figure out for the life of them how Toris possibly did poorly during clinicals.

"I just get really nervous when I'm put on the spot," Toris explains, regaining his ability to speak. "I tense up and completely blank."

"I get it," Dr. Beilschmidt says. "What you've gotta do is use the oldest trick in the book—imagine your professor in his or her underwear."

"That'll make me even more nervous," Toris mumbles.

"Then try to imagine they're not there. You've gotta get in your zone—the awesome zone, where nothing ever goes wrong. Just keep telling yourself you're awesome over and over again inside of your head. Fake it until you make it kid, that's the key to getting through a lot of stressful situations in life. Say it with me, 'I'm awesome!' You can do it."

"I'm awesome," Toris whispers.

"Louder, kiddo."

"I'm awesome!"

"Louder."

"I'M AWESOME!"

"There you go," Gilbert applauds him. "Just don't forget it. Say it a thousand times a day if you have to. So, you're gonna ace your next assessment, right?"

"Hopefully," Toris says with a sigh.

"No. You don't need any hope because you _know_ you're going to do well. Got it?"

"Got it."

Just then, a student steps into the clinic, and Dr. Beilschmidt goes off to tend to them, but not before he directs another wink of encouragement at Toris.

And Toris, for his part, grins for the first time that day.

* * *

"I trust everyone here received their flu shots?" Dr. Kirkland asks their trio during the first week of December. "The peak of flu season is approaching, and I want to ensure we've all taken the necessary precautions."

"Toris and I got it," Feliks chimes in. "It's a requirement for the nursing program."

"The same goes for medical students," Amelia confirms.

"Good, because the clinic is likely to be very busy over these next few weeks before winter recess."

And Dr. Kirkland sure is right about that. In that week alone, they see more than twice the average amount of students that normally stop by the clinic. Nearly all of them complain of muscle aches, a fever, sore throat, runny nose, occasional nausea, and a cough. If it's not the flu, it's bronchitis or some other type of upper respiratory infection. Feliks gets so paranoid about the germs that he starts wearing a medical mask for the entire shift to keep from contracting anything.

Amelia pokes fun at him and says he's being dramatic, but karma comes back to haunt her because the following week, she finds herself stuck with the beginnings of a sore throat and stuffy nose. At first, she thinks it's just her usual bout of almost-sick-but-not-really-that-sick phenomenon that she's been going through since she started working at the clinic, so she brushes it off.

By Friday, however, she's pretty sure she's got a fever, and she feels like absolute garbage. So much for getting her flu shot, as it doesn't seem like it's done much to protect her anyway.

Nonetheless, she can't afford to miss class unless she's on her deathbed, so she ends up dragging herself to her lecture and lab classes anyway. She's dazed and only half-awake through most of the lessons, but that doesn't really matter as long as she's marked as being present on the attendance sheet.

And since she's already out of bed and attending classes, she decides there's no point in missing work either. She shows up to her shift on Friday, despite shivering with chills and not being able to think straight through her massive headache. She pops some ibuprofen and hopes it'll make her feel better, but it doesn't seem to do much.

The clinic is ridiculously busy again, and the chatter in the waiting room makes her feel even worse, which she didn't think could be possible because she thought she'd hit rock bottom a while ago.

Feliks and Toris try to convince her to ask Dr. Kirkland to let her go home, but they needn't have bothered because before Amelia can even cross the threshold into one of the exam rooms to help with one of the patients, Dr. Kirkland sees her and says, "Hold on just a moment. What do you think you're doing?"

She lets her right hand drop from the door handle of the exam room and glowers. "Going to take a history and vitals."

Dr. Kirkland furrows his brows and draws his mouth into a deep frown. Before Amelia can have the sense to back away, he presses an icy hand to her forehead, and she sighs, relishing in the soothing coldness.

He clicks his tongue at her and removes his hand from her head. "You're burning up. You can't work in this condition."

"I'm fine. Went to my classes today," Amelia insists in between a coughing fit, but Dr. Kirkland merely keeps frowning at her.

"Go to room three and wait for me there," he instructs.

He's not going to examine her, is he? Oh, great. She should've just stayed home after all.

"I'll go home and get out of your hair," she suggests instead, but Dr. Kirkland scowls at her and she can't help but feel like a little kid who's in big trouble. "Okay, okay…I'll go to room three, just stop looking at me like that."

He waits for her to cross the hallway before he finally takes his eyes off her and heads back to dealing with his other patients, clearly not trusting her to follow his orders unless he's watching her.

And he's right not to trust her, because if he hadn't been so insistent, Amelia would already be on her way out of the clinic and fleeing the surrounding vicinity. Instead, she has no choice but to sit down on the exam table in room three, head spinning and eyes watering from the fever.

She braces herself for a long wait, but no more than ten minutes later, Feliks gets sent in to take her temperature and blood pressure.

"Woo," he says as he takes the thermometer out of her mouth once the reading is done. "You're at a hundred and three. Not good."

"I'll be fine," she snaps, even though she doesn't believe her own words.

"And your BP is low."

She's about to say it's not a big deal and that she just needs to sleep this off, when suddenly, a wave of nausea hits her, and she's jumping off of the exam table and vomiting into the garbage bin in the room.

And while she's still retching, Dr. Kirkland just so happens to come in.

Well, she's already collapsed in front of him, so puking in front of him can't be that much worse.

Her stomach starts dry heaving and, suddenly, there are tears falling from her eyes even though she doesn't feel like crying. It's just an involuntary reaction and another sign of how her body has chosen to betray her.

"Easy now," Dr. Kirkland says softly from behind her, placing a hand on her back and rubbing small circles against her hunched form. "There's always an unlucky one in the office that gets the flu despite being vaccinated, and it seems you're that one."

When she's finally done and the nausea has passed, she washes her mouth in the nearby sink and takes the paper towels Dr. Kirkland offers her with shaking hands.

"Hundred-and-three-degree fever, Dr. K, and her BP was eighty-six over fifty-seven," Feliks informs the man.

"All right, thank you, Feliks. Can you check on room two for me? I'll be there in a few minutes," Dr. Kirkland says, and then, once Feliks goes off to handle his new task, he turns to Amelia and says, "Sit down, dear."

The pet name should make her feel more at ease, but all it does is make her more frazzled. Nevertheless, she seats herself on the exam table again and has to resist the urge to close her eyes for a quick power nap.

"You look awful," Dr. Kirkland remarks.

"Yeah, I noticed."

He puts his stethoscope on her chest, and Amelia jumps back because of how cold it is.

"Sorry. Try to hold still."

She tries to hold back a cough that's itching in her lungs while he's listening to her heart, and she leans forward a bit as he moves the stethoscope to her back.

"Take a deep breath."

She tries, but her coughing gets in the way, and she has to wipe more stray tears from her eyes as she apologizes. God, she's a mess.

"All right, I'm going to feel your neck now…You have quite a bit of swelling and your lymph nodes are enlarged," he says, voice still soft. "Open wide and say ahh."

She follows his orders and feels a tongue depressor get placed in her mouth as she watches the bright light of the man's otoscope flash in front of her.

"Are you having difficulty swallowing?" he asks.

She makes an affirmative noise around the tongue depressor and sighs when he's done looking at her throat and she's able to close her mouth. Everything feels sore, honestly—from her head to her feet. Toris would have a field day doing a head-to-toe assessment of her now.

Her hair gets tucked aside and then Dr. Kirkland moves the otoscope to her right ear, checking for signs of infection. Then, he does the same to her left ear.

"So? How's everything looking so far?"

"Not great."

Nothing surprising there, judging by how terrible she's feeling.

"It's just the flu," she says.

"Yes, but the flu can also be quite serious, and your fever is concerning," Dr. Kirkland counters. "Lie back."

"Why?"

"I need to examine your stomach. You just vomited, after all."

So what? There's nothing to be done. She just has to tough it out and let it run its course. Still, she lies down and tries not to shiver too much when her shirt gets tugged up a little and the cold stethoscope gets placed on her abdomen.

"You're already showing some signs of dehydration. You need to drink plenty of fluids, even though it may be the last thing you feel like doing," he tells her as he's palpating her stomach.

Easy for him to say. Her throat is raw and the thought of holding anything down, even water—damn…She's going to be sick again.

She scrambles to get up, and Dr. Kirkland gives her a puzzled look until he sees her head hanging over the garbage bin again and understands.

The hand that was on her back earlier returns, and, admittedly, it does make her feel a little less miserable.

"Do you have someone who can take you home?" Dr. Kirkland asks gently once she's done and is rinsing out her mouth again.

"My sister's in class and then has work, but I can walk myself home. It's not that far," she assures.

"Would you be opposed to me sending Toris to walk you there?"

"You don't have to."

"I don't want to find out an hour from now that you've collapsed on the street somewhere," he says sternly.

"Fine…I'll go with Toris."

He nods his head approvingly and is about to head out of the room to call the boy, but he pauses for a moment to tell her, "Get well soon but don't rush to return to work. Take as much time as you need to recover."

That warm feeling that was in her chest back when she was helping Maddie cook Thanksgiving dinner returns. And speaking of Maddie, her sister is going to kill her when she finds out she went to work with this kind of high fever. She's not going to be allowed to lift a foot out of bed for the next several days.

Part of her is also frustrated. She wants to be helping treat students in the clinic—not succumbing to illness herself. She hates the helpless feeling of having to rely on someone else to care for her.

"That's how you know you're destined to work in medicine," Toris says jokingly as he's escorting her home fifteen minutes later under Dr. Kirkland's orders. "When you can't handle the thought of being a patient because you always want to be in control of things."

"Yeah, some control over my stomach would be really useful right about now," Amelia huffs as they reach the entrance to her apartment building. "Thanks for the help, Toris."

"Not a problem," he says with a smile. "Can I tell Dr. Kirkland you're okay now?"

"Tell him I'm dying in the comfort of my home now, which is nice," she jokes darkly.

Toris rolls his eyes and says, "Okay, but seriously, keep Feliks and me updated."

"Will do."

"Feel better!"

"Don't tell me how to live my life!" she shouts back with a smile, unlocking the door and stepping into the warm lobby.

After a quick elevator ride, she's at her and Maddie's front door. She gets herself inside, walks straight to the bedroom, and lets her tired, achy body sink into her cozy bed. She barely has the strength to change into something more comfortable, but she makes a valiant effort and manages to put on a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.

Then, she lies down and tries to get some much-needed sleep, but her nose is so congested and the fever makes her so irritable and restless that she can't doze off. It doesn't help that she has to get up two more times to be sick.

She knows she's not drinking enough water, so she opens up a bottle and starts attempting to take some sips. Each time she thinks she's had an acceptable amount to drink, her stomach contracts and ends up rejecting it again.

By the early evening, when Madeline returns from her shift at the local library, Amelia's pretty sure she's actually dying. It's hard to breathe, her body is on fire, and she doesn't have the energy to do anything anymore.

"If you didn't push yourself like this, you wouldn't be so sick," Madeline chides her, but she doesn't keep criticizing her for too long because she must feel bad yelling at her when her condition is so dismal.

Madeline does her best to nurse her back to health. She stays up all night with Amelia and keeps reapplying cool compresses to her head. She holds her hair back every time she's sick and attempts to get her to drink at least part of a sports-drink to get some electrolytes into her, but that effort ends up failing, too.

"If you're not better by breakfast, we're going to the emergency room," Madeline tells her around two o'clock in the morning.

It's funny—Madeline doesn't have any experience in medicine, and yet, Amelia still thinks she has more sense in these types of situations than she herself does.

"If I didn't work at the clinic, I wouldn't be sick," Amelia groans.

"But you _do_ work at the clinic. Besides, I know you like working there at least a little bit. Don't lie."

"I'm just doing it for the recommendation."

"Maybe when you started out, but not anymore. You've grown to like it there. I know because you stopped complaining about it three weeks ago," Madeline says with a little smile. "And you've stopped having early-life crises after every shift."

"I'm just desensitized now, that's why."

"That's not true, and we both know it. Admit it, you _like_ working for Dr. Kirkland."

"No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do."

She'll never admit to Maddie being right. That's against her moral code.

"Shut up and let me puke some more."

It's going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

Madeline is her guardian angel. Amelia honestly doesn't know how she would survive her day-to-day life without her. Friends have come and gone. She has loved and lost boyfriends. Relatives have fallen out of her life, and yet, Maddie has always been there, standing by her every single step of the way.

After losing everything left in her stomach multiple times, coughing endlessly, and moaning about how she might actually be dying, Amelia's only source of comfort is Madeline. Her sister combs through her hair with her fingers and hums soft melodies in an attempt to coax her to sleep—reminding Amelia of their childhood and how they used to stay in each other's rooms on days when it seemed like everything was going wrong. It was them against the world.

Around five o'clock in the morning, Amelia finally nods off, only to wake up three hours later to the sound of birds chirping outside and the sound of cars rushing down the street. The morning sunlight chases away some of the gray fog in her bedroom, and she uses a great deal of strength just to sit up. She can feel the fever still nestled beneath her skin, and her tongue feels like cardboard in her mouth. There's no doubt in her mind that she's fairly dehydrated.

Her nose is completely clogged, which gives her a terrible sinus headache. And less than five minutes after waking, she has to suffer through a phlegmy coughing fit. Gross.

She sees Madeline asleep on the other side of the bed. She has dark circles under her eyes that match her own, and even though Amelia feels a twist of guilt in her gut for keeping her up all night, she's also immensely relieved someone was watching over her.

Maddie's super-sister senses must somehow know that Amelia is up because, a minute later, her dark blue eyes open, and she's rubbing a weary hand over her face. She blinks at Amelia, smiles reassuringly, and asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Bad."

"Thought so. Do you think you can try to get a few more hours of sleep?"

"I wish I could, but everything hurts and I can't get comfortable…The room is spinning."

Maddie frowns worriedly at her and presses her hand to her forehead, keeping it there for a few seconds. "You're still really warm, too…Amelia, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you should go to the hospital."

"Ugh, don't make me."

"The longer you lie here without eating or drinking, the worse you're gonna get."

"No."

"Come on, don't be a baby about it," Maddie says, taking a jab at her pride because that's one of her notorious weaknesses.

"I'm not being a baby," Amelia whines petulantly—not her best defense.

"Yeah, you are. You're also really bad at taking care of yourself. I'll get you some juice and toast, and then we'll go, okay?"

There really isn't any way for her to win this argument, so Amelia nods despairingly and burrows farther into her blankets and pillows. When breakfast is ready, she tries to take a few nibbles, only to end up feeling sick to her stomach again. She does, however, manage to hold down a few meager sips of orange juice.

Then, she sluggishly pulls a hoodie over her head, gets her feet into a pair of sneakers, and lets Maddie help her into a puffy winter coat. Her sister also wraps a knit scarf around her neck and slides a hat with a fur pompom embellishment over her head.

"I think I'm warm enough, Maddie. I'm melting," Amelia mumbles crabbily, carefully standing up with her sister's help. Her limbs are like goo—threatening to surrender to gravity and end up on the ground at any given moment.

Maddie ignores her complaints and says, "There's a cab waiting outside. Do you have everything you need? Phone, ID, insurance card, and tissues?"

"Yeah, I'm fine...You know, we could've walked to the hospital. It's not far from the university."

"Listen, you need to save your energy, okay? This is an emergency, so we're taking a cab."

"It's not an emergency."

"Stop talking," Maddie huffs at her, locking the front door before guiding them to the elevator. "You're impossible sometimes."

"Sorry…"

"It's fine. I just haven't had any coffee yet, so try not to drive me too crazy okay?"

"Thanks for this. You don't have to sit in the ER with me. It's gonna be boring and a long wait, probably."

"I'll do what I want to do, and if that means I want to sit with you, I'm gonna sit with you, and you're gonna be quiet about it, okay?" Maddie snaps without any real bite as they reach the lobby and head outside. She heads to the cab first and opens the door for Amelia, and then, they're off.

It's no more than a ten-minute drive, and before Amelia is fully mentally prepared, Maddie is guiding her through the walk-in entrance of the ER. While Maddie gets the paperwork they need to fill out, Amelia makes herself comfortable in one of the chairs in the waiting area and rubs her nose with a tissue, sniffling ceaselessly.

"It's gonna be about a forty-minute wait, which isn't bad at all," Madeline tells her when she's back, clipboard at hand. "You're probably better at filling out these forms than I am though…"

With a little groan, Amelia takes the paperwork from her and starts writing down her information and medical history. Does she smoke? No. Is she allergic to any medication? Nope. Any medical conditions? No. Is she married? Not yet. Then, it's just basic stuff—like her address, emergency contact info, cellphone number, social security, insurance info, the reason for her visit, etc. She's barely alert enough to get through it all.

"Done," she announces after ten minutes of intense form-filling, and Madeline hands everything back to the staff behind the main desk.

"I know you don't want to be here, but it's for your own good," Maddie says as she returns to the chair beside her.

Amelia nods and buries her face in her scarf. She sees a few familiar faces walking past—staff she's seen during her clinicals here at the hospital. None of them know her name, fortunately—she doesn't know them that well, which is a relief because she doesn't want to be recognized by anyone. It's a big hospital, so hopefully, she'll be able to blend in with the crowd.

There's a TV mounted to the wall, and the channel is set to some local news network. Turns out there was a fire downtown, but everyone in the building was left unharmed. A child is missing after last being seen in the park. There's a cute viral video of a dog jumping through a hula-hoop. Want to know how to cook healthy vegan meals when you've only got ten minutes to spare? Stay tuned!

"Amelia Jones?" the triage nurse calls out around half an hour later.

Amelia gets up on wobbly legs, lets out a painful cough, and follows the nurse into a separate room, where she's asked to stand on a scale to get her height and weight recorded.

"So, you've got the flu?" the nurse asks.

"Yup. A bad case of it, too," Amelia says, stepping down from the scale once it's okay for her to do so. She sits in a nearby chair for a moment so the nurse can put a hospital bracelet around her wrist and take her temperature, pulse, and oxygen saturation.

"Sorry to hear that, sweetie. You go to the college here?"

"Yeah, I'm a medical student."

"Oh, that's great! Maybe you'll be working here soon, huh?"

"Hopefully," Amelia says with a tired smile, watching the nurse write down her vitals and suddenly thinking about how she's done this hundreds of times for students at the clinic.

"All right, honey, come on. Let's get you a bed."

She and Madeline follow the nurse onto the unit and over to one of the curtain-separated rooms, whereupon Amelia doesn't waste any time and lies down as soon as she knows which bed is hers. Frankly, she's beyond exhausted and doesn't want to put to the test how much longer she can stay on her feet.

"How about I bring you something for your fever?" the nurse suggests, helping her recline the bed and get more comfortable.

"I'm probably not going to be able to hold it down anyway," Amelia says.

"Okay, we'll wait until the doctor sees you then. Someone should be around in a little bit."

"Thanks."

She suddenly misses Feliks and Toris. Even though they're still students, they might as well be registered nurses already, and it'd be really nice to have them here right now. They can make any situation less glum.

"You know, considering it's Saturday, I'm surprised this place isn't busier," Maddie comments, taking a seat by Amelia's bedside. "I thought weekends would be hectic around here."

"Yeah, we must be lucky..."

Saturday…Why does that suddenly seem important? Something churns in her stomach and makes her uneasy, and when she finally realizes what it is, she becomes paler than she already is.

"Oh, no," she groans, bringing a hand to her head. This is bad. This is _so_ bad.

"What is it?" Maddie asks, eyes widening. "Should I get the nurse?"

"No, I just…Remind me what day it is."

"December sixteenth."

"And it's the third Saturday of the month, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

She's going to puke again. If she had known what weekend it was, she would have convinced Maddie to let her stay at home, or, at the very least, to have taken her to a different hospital.

"Oh, God…Oh, God, why? Is this funny to you? Are you having a blast up there?" Amelia says, staring up at the ceiling and practically sobbing.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" Madeline demands, bracing herself for the worst.

Amelia holds her aching stomach and lets out a dejected cough of surrender. Let the heavens take her. Let lightning strike her dead here and now.

"Kirkland's here…I know because his schedule is at the front desk of the clinic, so I see it every day, and he's at the hospital every other weekend," Amelia explains.

Madeline runs a nervous hand through her hair and winces on her behalf. "There are plenty of doctors here. You might not get him. It's fine."

"I'll never be able to face him again if he finds out I'm in the ER for the freaking flu."

"Maybe he's on the night-shift?"

"No, I know for a fact that he works days."

"Oh, man."

"Yeah, exactly," Amelia groans, hiding her face behind her scarf. "Maybe if I start faking some chest pains, they'll assign me a cardiologist instead…Get me a cardiac work-up, people. Don't leave me like this."

"Oh, stop."

"Ughhh," she complains. "There's still hope though. Like you said, there are other doctors here, and—"

The privacy curtain gets pulled aside, and that's when her hopes are squandered because a second later, Dr. Kirkland is standing at the end of her bed—an amused expression on his face mixed with a hint of concern. He's amused _and_ smug. What a horrible combination.

"Well, well, I see there's hardly a need for introductions, is there?" he says, setting down her chart on a nearby counter with a lopsided smile.

Whatever higher power is allowing this to happen needs to stop right this minute. This isn't fair. She shouldn't be subjected to this much humiliation in the course of a single lifetime.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon," she says, trying to act casual about the whole thing even though she wants to disappear.

"It's a small world," he remarks before turning toward a bashful Madeline and shaking her hand. "Good day, I'm Dr. Arthur Kirkland, and it appears as though I'll be taking care of your sister today. From a distance, I'd venture to say the two of you are identical."

"Hello, I'm Madeline—Amelia is my twin. It's a pleasure to meet you," Maddie says politely. That's why all adults love her—she's too well-mannered for her own good.

"Likewise, though I would have preferred to have met under different circumstances," Dr. Kirkland notes before making himself comfortable on a rolling stool that's located right beside Amelia's bed. He's so close Amelia can see the rise and fall of his chest.

He lowers the bedrail so he can more easily examine her. Then, he turns his gaze to her increasingly pale face and asks, "What happened? What compelled you to come to the emergency room?"

Amelia purses her lips and tries to get herself to relax, but she's still internally screaming. "Other than the fact that my sister forced me to come?"

He chuckles. "I already concluded _that_. I know you well enough to understand you'd never willingly seek treatment for anything."

She's pretty predictable, isn't she?

"Well, uhh, last night wasn't great...I slept for only about three hours because I was either coughing up a lung or throwing up. Can't really hold anything down. Pretty sure I'm dehydrated beyond repair," she mumbles.

Dr. Kirkland feels her forehead with a cold hand that smells strongly of hand sanitizer and says, "Yes, you look quite a bit worse than yesterday…Open your mouth."

She lets her tense jaw slacken and her mouth fall open, and he shines a penlight at her tongue and tonsils. Then, he picks up her left hand and lightly pinches her skin, checking her turgor.

"You're certainly dehydrated, but I'm sorry to inform you that it is _not_ beyond repair," he mocks, letting go of her hand. "When did you start feeling flu symptoms?"

"Around Tuesday."

"Four days ago, then? Hmm, you're going to be trouble, that's for certain."

"What do you mean?"

He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing her, and explains, "Nausea is possible with the seasonal flu, but such frequent vomiting is uncommon. That leads me to believe you've contracted more than one infection."

"Great, this keeps getting better," Amelia groans as another coughing fit takes hold of her. She sits up and starts hacking, lungs burning, and by the time it's over, there are tears rolling down her face. She swipes at them angrily and hopes neither Dr. Kirkland nor Madeline saw them.

Dr. Kirkland tsks, and while he's got her sitting up, he decides to listen to her lungs like he did at the clinic. He tugs up her sweatshirt and places his stethoscope on her back. "Deep breaths..."

Maddie watches with increasing concern, leaning forward in her seat anxiously. Amelia can tell she's about ready to jump out of her chair and have a full-blown panic attack.

Dr. Kirkland hangs his stethoscope around his neck again once he's done and frowns down at her, reaching a verdict. "We'll get you started on IV fluids and medication for the fever and nausea, but first, we'll need a blood and urine sample. I also want you to get a chest x-ray done at some point because this is beginning to look like it has progressed past the point of being the flu."

"You think I have pneumonia?"

"We'll find out," he says, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. "The nurse will come in soon, and I'll be back to check on you later."

He leaves, and she rolls her head to the side, immensely sleepy but still unable to actually fall asleep. It takes a few moments for her to realize Madeline is looking at her with a goofy smile, and, all at once, she feels self-conscious.

"What?" she asks her sister.

"You did it—you got on Kirkland's good side."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you definitely did. It's clear he likes you."

"I think you're the delirious one now."

Madeline shakes her head and grins even wider. "Please, he's liked you ever since he gave you the job. Otherwise, he never would've asked for your resume."

"No, he's just being nice to me now because he knows I'm dying."

"You're not dying."

"I may as well be, dude," she says, shivering. "Man, it's cold in here."

"Must be the fever. It's pretty comfortable in here, actually," Madeline points out. "Well, at least you're in good hands now. He's not nearly as mean as I thought he would be."

"Looks can be deceiving," Amelia reminds, and that's when the nurse comes in to take her blood. It's over quickly, thank goodness. With her recent fainting spell still fresh in her mind, she doesn't trust herself around blood like she used to.

She manages to retain some of her dignity by mustering the strength to walk herself to the bathroom to pee in a cup instead of having to do it over a bedpan, so that's somewhat of a silver lining. Then, she finally gets her IV put in and feels the cool rush of fluid going into her vein.

Just an hour on the IV does miracles for her, and she feels miles better than she did before. The nausea medication must also be working because her stomach stops doing somersaults.

And two hours after that, she gets her promised chest x-ray done. It's no worse than any other x-ray she's had in the past—nothing but lying totally still and holding her breath for a few seconds at a time. Then, she's left to rest. She's still not comfortable enough to fall asleep, but she rests in bed while Madeline talks softly to her to fill the silence. Everything's fine at the library where she works, but, _ooh-la-la_ , there's a handsome boy who started working in the children's fiction section. Unfortunately, Madeline claims he's not her type. Amelia didn't even know either of them even had a type.

Dr. Kirkland drops by for a moment around that time, and though Amelia will never say it aloud, she feels more at ease when he's around. Maybe it's because she knows he won't let her aspirate on her own bodily fluids in this bed, or maybe it's something about how his bedside manner isn't as bad as she expected it to be. He brings her a pillow, which is great because these ER beds aren't really beds—they're stretchers, so they're super uncomfortable to sleep on for long periods of time.

Then, he checks her breathing yet again and informs her that the chest x-ray showed that, yes, she does, in fact, have pneumonia—not a serious case, but it's a concern nonetheless. "I don't wish to make you stay here any longer than necessary, but it's likely we'll have to keep you overnight until your breathing improves. How do you feel?"

She shrugs her shoulders and coughs. She's still shivering, even though the nurse covered her up with a blanket a little while ago. "I don't feel nauseous anymore, but my lungs and head hurt."

"You're wheezing. Are you short of breath?"

"Yeah..."

Not needing any further information to take action, Dr. Kirkland puts an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth a few minutes later, and her immediate instinctual response is to reach up to try to take it off.

"No, no. Leave it. It'll help," he says patiently, guiding her hands away from her face and back to her sides.

Admittedly, it does help, and the cool air eases some of the stress on her lungs.

"Is she going to be all right?" Madeline asks, and the fear in her voice is obvious. "She just keeps looking worse."

"She'll be fine if she rests and we continue to monitor her," he replies, sounding reassuring. He looks down at Amelia's face, and she looks hazily back at him. Fortunately, her breathing is evening out thanks to the aid of the additional oxygen. "We need to cure you or else Feliks and Toris will never forgive me. They're quite fond of you."

She smiles softly at that, eyes drooping. The ache in her lungs is not quite as intense, and she lets out a small groan of relief.

"Any better?" Maddie asks, leaning over her.

She nods weakly, and her sister scoots her chair closer to pet her head. The gentle touch is the last thing Amelia needs to drift to sleep.

* * *

Maddie isn't there when she wakes up. She must either be out getting food or in the bathroom.

It's eerie being alone in her hospital bed. The oxygen mask from earlier is still on her face and hissing away as it does its job. Someone must have turned off the light above her bed, because the room is dim now, and the only light she sees is the light filtering in from behind the privacy curtain.

She lets out a heavy groan and notices just how groggy her brain is at the moment. Her vision is a little blurred, and she's still being endlessly assaulted by bouts of chills. On the bright side, her tongue doesn't feel like cardboard anymore, so she's not as dehydrated as earlier.

Dr. Kirkland comes tiptoeing in a few minutes later, expecting her to still be asleep. "Ah, you're awake. You were asleep for almost four hours."

He takes her pulse, checks that everything is still all right with her oxygen mask, and is about to assess the state of her lungs again when she erupts into yet another coughing fit. This one is worse than all of the previous ones, and she swears she almost breaks a rib in the process. Hot tears stream down her face again as Dr. Kirkland sits her up and pats her back firmly to help her cough up the phlegm in her lungs.

"All right?" he asks once it's finally over. He also passes her some tissues so she can dry her eyes.

Amelia's sure her cheeks are flaming red, but hopefully, he'll think it's the fever and not the embarrassment she feels.

"Y-Yeah," she croaks. "This sucks."

"I'm not discharging you today."

"Okay."

"What? No argument? No 'damn that wretched Kirkland?' I'm sorely disappointed. I certainly expected more from you," he teases as he checks to make sure everything is in order with her IV.

"I don't think I'd have the energy to go home even if I wanted to," she says in between a wheeze.

"Well, now I know you're seriously ill."

"…Great joke," she says with scathing sarcasm, voice muffled by her oxygen mask, but he's close enough to hear her clearly. Besides, he must be pretty well-versed in making sense of otherwise incoherent mumbles. "Do all doctors have this scintillating sense of humor or just you?"

"I like to think it's just me," he replies with a dry smile. "I'll forgive the cheek for now, but I won't be as sympathetic once you've recovered."

"I'm not in a professional work-setting, so anything I say now should be considered as being off-the-record."

"Fair enough."

"…You wouldn't happen to know where my sister is, would you?"

He places his stethoscope on her back for what feels like the hundredth time that day and says, "I believe she went to get dinner—after asking me multiple times if you would be all right without her presence, mind you."

Amelia can't help but smile. "Yup, that's my Maddie. I don't deserve her. Sorry if she's been nagging you, though."

"It's no trouble at all. Believe it or not, you're not my most difficult patient of the day."

"What? I've got competition?"

Dr. Kirkland nods, and Amelia realizes he must be pretty tired himself. Spending one's weekend in a crazy ER probably isn't that much fun after you've been doing it for years. "My other patient is confused and keeps attempting to rip out his IV. He almost attacked one of the nurses."

"Impressive," she jokes, coughing a little. "Don't worry, I'll step my game up, in that case."

Suddenly, someone starts shouting from the direction of the nurses' station, and there's a loud thud. A second later, another person yells, "Call a code!"

Dr. Kirkland sighs, says, "Excuse me," and casts the privacy curtain to her room aside for a brief moment to let himself out and see what's going on. He disappears and doesn't come back for a while.

But things do quiet down. Amelia supposes that means everything is under control again, so she isn't too concerned. She continues her steady breathing and adjusts her oxygen mask a little because it's starting to hurt her face from being pressed against her skin for so long, and Madeline is back soon after that. She saved some food for Amelia, but Amelia has to decline the offer because her appetite is still nonexistent at the moment.

Time passes slowly in the hospital, and even though Maddie tries to keep her entertained by playing her some funny cat videos on her phone, it's not enough to keep boredom from setting in. On the bright side, Amelia gets a next door neighbor. She can hear people on the other side of the curtain to her left, and she wishes she could sneak a peek at what's going on and say hello without it being socially awkward. It sounds like two parents with their kid, and the kid's crying—as expected. Poor thing. She loves kids, and if she could, she would go over there and try to comfort her (it sounds like a girl, anyway).

An hour later though, she regrets her previous thoughts because when a nurse comes in to take the kid's blood, the kid starts howling and screeching as if she's being murdered. The screaming makes Amelia's ears ring and aggravates her headache (which was starting to fade). She empathizes with the child, but god, would it be too much to ask for her to scream at a lower pitch, at least?

When it's done, and the girl starts to quiet down again, the silence doesn't last long. She starts shrieking all over again when the pediatrician comes in.

"Hopefully they'll send her home soon," Madeline whispers in Amelia's ear, wincing against the immense noise.

Around seven-thirty in the evening, as the day-shift starts to get ready to hand over the reign to the night-shift, Dr. Kirkland comes in to see Amelia one last time before he clocks out. He arrives shortly after her nurse finishes taking her vitals and goes about the usual process of listening to her heart and lungs, and as he's doing that, her neighbor starts wailing again.

He flinches and pauses his examination to say, "You're not going to get any rest like this, are you?"

"Probably not," Amelia admits with a tired smile, "but, oh well."

"I'll take care of this."

She's not sure what he plans to do, but she doesn't dare say a word as he storms off. He's gone for a good fifteen minutes or so, and before she can ask him what's going on, he's unlocking the wheels of her bed from their motionless position and moving her—IV, oxygen mask, and all—to another part of the unit.

She sits up to protest, but he shushes her and instructs her to lie down again. Madeline is close behind them, just as confused.

He stops in front of the isolation room, which has an actual door separating it from the rest of the unit, and brings her inside. It's blessedly quiet.

"You can stay in here for now, until this room is needed to actually keep a patient isolated," he tells her. "Now, if there's a problem during the night, there's a call button for the nurse on the wall behind your bed. Make sure you receive your next dose of medication around midnight. Then, we'll see how you're doing in the morning. If you feel worse, let the nurse or the next doctor know. Understood?"

"Yeah, thank you."

"And if someone tries to move you from this isolation room without good reason, tell them that I said there will be hell to pay in the morning."

She barely holds back a snort of laughter and nods. "Got it."

"Visiting hours will be over in an hour," he warns, addressing Madeline this time, "but you can probably get away with staying until the nurse asks you to leave. Any other questions or concerns?"

Both Amelia and Madeline shake their heads.

"In that case, goodnight."

Once he's gone, Amelia sheepishly looks to Madeline and says, "All right, maybe he _doesn't_ hate me for now, but all of that can still change."

* * *

Being on a stretcher sucks. It makes her neck, back, and shoulders ache, but the ER isn't meant to be a hotel. That said, she sleeps through most of the night, waking up only once or twice when the touch of her nurse or doctor accidentally rouses her. Fortunately, it appears no one else needs the isolation room, and so, she's allowed to stay exactly where she is.

Her lungs feel better—not as achy and heavy—although the coughing hasn't stopped. It's progress, at least.

And her appetite is back. She's grateful for the cup of warm oatmeal Madeline brings her first thing in the morning. It really hits the spot and gives her back some of her energy.

"You're looking much better," Dr. Kirkland notices as well. "You still have a fever, but your breathing is under control again."

It's welcome news. Amelia wants nothing more but to go home to her own bed so she can have some soup, watch some television, and…oh, man, she has an exam to study for. She considers begging Dr. Kirkland to discharge her right then and there, but in the end, she doesn't have to worry because he makes the decision himself about two hours later.

The next time he comes into her room, it's to hand her a clipboard with some discharge forms she needs to sign. She also gets some lengthy literature on how to take care of her pneumonia when she gets home, which she doesn't actually have to read because Dr. Kirkland summarizes it for her.

"You'll need bed rest, fluids, and over the counter medication for the next few days. If you have a humidifier at home, use it. If not, boil some water in a pot and breathe in the steam to help with your chest congestion. If your fever won't break or you start feeling short of breath again, come back to the ER," he explains, scribbling something down before handing another pile of papers to her. "There's a note excusing you from your classes for the next two days in there. Don't concern yourself with coming into work this week. I also took the liberty of making sure you have a copy of your bloodwork and the results of your chest x-ray."

She looks at the papers and nods before handing everything over to Madeline. She knows she can trust her sister with documents more than she can trust herself.

"Thanks."

Dr. Kirkland nods curtly and starts to make his way out. "I don't want to see you here again. Feel better, and since I may not see you until after the break, Merry Christmas and a happy New Year."

"You, too."

She smiles. It's odd how she's no longer intimidated by him after this impromptu adventure. It's like everything has changed, and now she knows why Feliks doesn't fear him either. He's not a mean person—not really, anyway.

Madeline helps her change into a fresh set of clothes so she doesn't feel quite as gross, and then, they make their way off of the unit, into another cab, and back home again. Looks like she won't have to worry about studying for that exam after all—she's got a perfectly good excuse to request to make it up another day.

"Here's some tea and soup," Maddie says, coming in with a tray of goodies once Amelia gets settled in bed.

She should get pneumonia more often. This is great!

"Thanks, sis. You gonna stay and watch a movie with me?"

"I kind of have some work for school to catch up on."

"Please? Just for a little bit? I'm _so_ sick," she exaggerates, holding a helpless hand up to her forehead. "Look at me. Have you no sympathy?"

Maddie rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Okay, I'll sit with you for a few minutes, but then I need to get to work."

Her doe-eyes still work like a charm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Finally, an update! Thanks for bearing with me! We have about one or two more chapters to go, and I'm really excited about writing them, so hopefully, my updates will be more frequent from now on. Enjoy and please leave a review if you can! I'd really appreciate it.

* * *

" _HARK! HOW THE BELLS, SWEET SILVER BELLS, ALL SEEM TO SAY, 'THROW CARES AWAY…'"_

"Oh, my god, Amelia. Stop," Madeline groans, covering her head with a fortress of pillows and attempting to block any sound from reaching her ears.

Maddie can be such a party pooper sometimes. Honestly, where's her Christmas cheer?

" _CHRISTMAS IS HERE, BRINGING GOOD CHEER TO YOUNG AND OLD, MEEK AND THE BOLD."_

"Shut up, please!"

 _"DING, DONG, DING, DONG—THAT IS THEIR SONG, WITH JOYFUL RING, ALL CAROLING. ONE SEEMS TO HEAR, WORDS OF GOOD CHEER, FROM EVERYWHERE, FILLING THE AIR!"  
_  
"I'm going to _kill_ you, Amelia."

 _"GAILY THEY RING WHILE PEOPLE SING SONGS OF GOOD CHEER. CHRISTMAS IS HERE."_

Amelia throws herself onto Madeline's bed and bounces up and down restlessly as she continues singing with gusto. _"MERRY, MERRY, MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS!"_

At long last, Madeline sits up in a fit of fury and smacks her pillow sharply against Amelia's side, eliciting a little hiss from her. "It's Christmas, and I want to sleep in. Go away! Sing your cover of 'Carol of the Bells' to the neighbors!"

"You can't sleep in on Christmas of all days! It's the _best_ day of the year, and don't you want to see what Santa got you this year?"

"Is it a new sister?"

"Ouch. I know you're pissy when you haven't had coffee yet, but that was cold."

"You were a lot quieter when you still had pneumonia," Maddie grunts, shuffling out of bed with a huge yawn. She puts on some fuzzy slippers, rubs at her eyes, and reluctantly follows Amelia down to the kitchen, where Amelia has gone about preparing breakfast for once. She's not much of a cook, and her food doesn't compare to the fancy stuff Maddie can make, but she makes awesome scrambled eggs and bacon, in her opinion.

"Dig in!" she says, crunching on a crispy piece of bacon. "See, don't you feel better already? Isn't this fun? Christmas is _so_ much fun."

Madeline nibbles on some eggs and takes a large swig of fresh coffee from her favorite mug, which has a polar bear on the front. "Sometimes I wonder if you're actually regressing in age and you're six-years-old again."

"There's nothing wrong with being a child at heart, Madeline. You need to be able to live a little and take joy in the simple things—or else life passes you by. Now, hurry up and finish eating so I can open my presents."

"That's all you care about, huh? Just the material validation that Christmas brings you! What happened to the true meaning of Christmas—coming together as a family and—?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We can do all that mushy stuff, too, but first, _preseeeents_."

And so, once breakfast is out of the way, they sit on the rug in front of their modest Christmas tree—the Christmas tree that Madeline had to decorate herself because Amelia claimed she was still too sick from her pneumonia to help put it up five days ago, even though she was almost fully recovered by then.

The gifts are fairly standard. Madeline's gifts from Amelia include some books she's been wanting to read for a while, a cute sweater from the boutique uptown, and a new bag she can take to work since her old one has been falling apart. She also gets a stocking filled with pretty pens, a new journal, and a small box of gourmet chocolates.

"So, do you like 'em?" Amelia asks, beaming.

"Of course I do. Thank you."

"Even the sweater? I wasn't sure if you'd like the style, but it's warm and knitted—perfect for the rest of the winter."

"It's great, Amelia. Open your presents now."

"Okay, ahhh, I'm so excited."

She peels away the gift wrap of the first box she sees with her name on it and her heart skips a beat when she realizes what it is. "Maddie…You shouldn't have…"

It's a stethoscope—but not just any stethoscope. It's from one of the most professional and expensive brands on the market. The diaphragm is _rose-gold_!

"Maddie, these things cost a fortune. You're not supposed to spend that much money on me," Amelia murmurs, and she honestly thinks she might cry. It's not even really about the stethoscope—it's the symbolism of getting this gift from Maddie of all people—her amazing Madeline who has had her back through everything and supported her dreams even when Amelia herself was tempted to give up on them.

"Just don't break it, okay?" Maddie jokes, a soft smile on her face.

"You're the best," Amelia says, voice cracking—and darn it, she's crying. Most of the people in her class got their stethoscopes as gifts as well, usually from their parents, but when Amelia started medical school, she ordered one online and simply chose whatever was in her budget. The earbuds of her cheap stethoscope are incredibly uncomfortable and almost painful after prolonged usage, and she has always been envious of her classmates as a result. This stethoscope, however, is sleek, professional, and fit for a real doctor.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? I love it. Gimme a hug."

She holds Maddie close and rests her chin on her shoulder before murmuring, "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Maddie shakes her head and smiles. "I know."

* * *

"Look out world, the dream team's back in action!" Feliks shouts on their first Wednesday back from winter break, immediately going into story after story about what Amelia missed while she was gone.

It's good to be back. She has missed this place. She's had quite a number of ups-and-downs here already, and honestly, the clinic has started to feel like a second home, even though she'll deny she has ever felt that way if someone asks her about it. Work is work. She's not allowed to like her job—not openly, anyway.

"You okay, kiddo? Kirkland told me about what happened a few weeks ago. Heard you got pneumonia?" Dr. Beilschmidt asks her.

"Yeah, I'm fine now though. Thanks for asking! How was your Christmas?"

"Ahh, boring. Family drama, as always," he laments. "At least I wasn't working though. Makes me feel like I still have somewhat of a life at times…Hey, you know, we're still supposed to have that whole end of the semester meeting thing, even though the semester technically ended and we missed our deadline."

"I forgot about that," Toris says, sorting through today's appointments. "Why do we have to do it in the first place?"

"I dunno, something about 'checking in.' The administration's been bugging me about it. Anyway, I sent everyone an email this morning, so get on it with Kirkland by the end of the week. I'll order pizza and other junk food for us so it doesn't end up being that miserable. We're supposed to fill out some stuff and come up with long-term goals for the future of the clinic, but Kirkland and I will be doing all of that, so you guys just have to show up so we can document that everyone was there," Dr. Beilschmidt explains, spinning around in his chair. "Are my three muskateers ready for another wholesome semester of medical education?"

They groan, and Dr. Beilschmidt laughs at their expense.

"I think I'm gonna have an aneurysm just thinking about my schedule," Feliks mumbles.

"Quick! Feliks is having a cerebral aneurysm. What do we do first, kids?" Dr. Beilscmidt asks, drilling them. "Hurry up! We're losing precious time. He's dying while you guys are just staring at me with those stricken expressions."

"We, uhh, find out if it's ruptured or not?" Amelia guesses.

"Wrong! Any other ideas? Come on, think like nurses and doctors! You know this stuff…Feliks, start groaning loudly."

Obligingly, Feliks falls to the ground and pretends he's dying, groaning to himself about how much he's suffering and how awful he feels.

"Pain, so much pain!" he screeches.

Amelia wracks her mind for an answer, but suddenly, she can't remember a single thing about aneurysms. "Uhh, uhh, it's hard to think when you're shouting, you know!"

"Don't yell at the patient," Dr. Beilschmidt chides, wagging a playful finger at her. "Come on, Toris?"

Without saying a word, Toris picks up the stationary phone at the front desk and holds it up.

"Correct!" Dr. Beilscmidt says, grinning. "Toris is thinking like a true nurse. The first thing you do is call 911. None of you are licensed professionals yet, so what do you expect to do for poor Feliks over here? Cut his brain open? Remember the scope of your power. That's an important lesson you guys need to learn. Also, sometimes, it's easy to overlook the common-sense solution. Can anyone tell me why that is?"

"Because common-sense isn't so common," Feliks says as he's getting up off of the floor and returning to his swivel chair.

"Yup! Exactly."

Amelia frowns. It's true—if this were a real emergency situation, she wouldn't really be able to do anything except wait for help to arrive. It's a little frustrating that after all of the studying she's done, she still can't put that information into practice. What could is it to know what the symptoms of an aneurysm are if you can't treat one? It's like all of the work she's been doing thus far has been meaningless.

She knows she needs to relax and take things one step at a time. She'll get her chance to step in and treat people eventually, and when their lives are in her hands, will she be able to act and help them effectively? What if she kills someone? What if she watches someone die because she freezes up and can't move? Working in healthcare can be cool and incredible, but it's also a huge responsibility, and it's a responsibility she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to handle.

She's forced to face these uncomfortable questions again on Friday. She finally sees Dr. Kirkland again after their long holiday break, and settling back into her routine with him is a little awkward, especially after her stay in the ER. She feels obligated to thank him in some way, so, she decides to give him a belated Christmas gift in the form of some fancy tea and chocolates along with a thank-you card. She leaves them on his desk, and he's clearly surprised because, for several long seconds, he doesn't say anything.

Then, he manages a smile and says, "That's very kind of you. Thank you."

"It's the least I could do after…you know…"

 _Great. Real smooth, Amelia._

Then, it's back to business as usual. She heads to the front desk, organizes some paperwork until the students start coming in, and then goes about her usual process of taking vitals, writing down medical histories when Dr. Kirkland asks her to, and occasionally observing as the patients get examined.

She gets a little _too_ comfortable in her routine, so she's caught completely off guard when she's doing something at the computer and, suddenly, one of the students in the waiting room falls out of their chair and starts seizing.

She jumps to her feet and tries not to panic. Like Dr. Beilschmidt said, she has to remember the scope of her power and look for a common-sense solution. She's not exactly the most qualified person to help in this situation, even though she knows what mechanisms in the body cause a seizure and how they usually just need to run their course and, and? What else? She should probably run to the student's side, but first…

"Dr. Kirkland! Help! It's an emergency!" she shouts as she's jogging over to the student, voice sounding too squeaky to her own ears.

Her heart starts fluttering with anxiety when a choking sound rises out of the young man's throat, and she hates herself for not knowing how to make things better. She tries to hold onto the student's shoulder to still him because that seems like an instinctual thing to do. Thankfully, she doesn't have the chance to feel incompetent and useless for too long, because a moment later, Dr. Kirkland is pushing away the nearby chairs to clear the area so that the student doesn't hurt himself on anything hard or sharp.

Duh, why didn't she think of that?

"Don't restrain him. Let him go," Dr. Kirkland orders, and Amelia quickly withdraws her hand from his shoulder as though she's been burned. "You could do more harm than good by forcing him to stay still. You could dislocate his shoulder."

"Sorry!"

"It's all right. You didn't know any better," he says before gently rolling the student onto his side. Then, he takes off his white coat, folds it a few times, and slips it under the young man's head to use it as a cushion. Once that's taken care of, he stares at his watch and waits.

The choking and gurgling sounds rising up from the student's mouth continue, and he spits up some saliva, but Dr. Kirkland doesn't seem fazed by this, so it mustn't be that serious.

After another thirty seconds or so, the student stops seizing. He blinks lethargically and furrows his brows, confused.

"You're okay," Dr. Kirkland tells him carefully and slowly. "You had a seizure…Have you ever had a seizure before, lad?"

"Y-Yeah," the young man mutters, screwing his brown eyes shut before opening them again. "I have epilepsy, but that's not why I'm here…I came for a cold," he adds, nervously chuckling a little.

"I see…I have some more questions for you, but they can wait. You should rest for several minutes. Amelia, can you get exam room two set up?"

Amelia hops to her feet again and nods right away. "Sure."

The student is going to be fine—no thanks to her. Good thing there's a real doctor around.

* * *

Monday morning is when the highly anticipated staff meeting takes place, and by highly anticipated, Amelia means that everyone can't wait until it's over. It's Toris, Feliks, Dr. Beilschmidt, Dr. Kirkland, and herself sitting at a round table in one of the back rooms of the clinic that was probably originally intended to be a staff lounge but somehow turned into just another cramped storage area packed with medical supplies and samples of medications.

"Thanks for coming, team. If you guys—and girl—could just sign the attendance sheet, we can get started," Dr. Beilschmidt announces, passing around a clipboard and pen.

"Excuse me, I'm not a girl—I'm a lady," Amelia corrects mildly, pretending to take offense.

Dr. Kirkland raises his brows in amusement and smirks. "She's right, Dr. Beilschmidt. A little respect, please."

"Sorry, sorry," Dr. Beilschmidt drones, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I'm a product of this patriarchal society, so I make mistakes. Anyway, pizza's on the way, but it just started pouring rain and sleet outside, so it's gonna take a while to get here…Also, any update on Francine? Is she coming back at some point? Because in that case, we need to mark it down on these forms."

Dr. Kirkland sits up, straightens his shoulders, and says, "It's unlikely. She's taking the semester off—as far as I know."

"Oh, okay. Good for her."

Clearly, they know something Amelia doesn't. She makes a mental note to find out from Dr. Kirkland if she could possibly get her phone number or email so she can reach out to her and check in on how things are going. It seems like the courteous thing to do. Besides, she has a lot she'd like to say to her.

"In that case," Dr. Beilschmidt continues, clasping his hands together. You kids just have to fill out a questionnaire and survey about your feelings about the clinic and any suggestions you have for improvements. Then, I've got some lengthy literature for you three to read about workplace safety—you know, what to do if there's a natural disaster or an active shooter, et cetera. There are some questions at the end for you to answer and then you've gotta sign off on it that you read it. While you do that, Dr. Kirkland and I will have some other nonsense to fill out. Afterward, we just need to set some goals for the future, so we'll talk about that at the end. And _then_ , keep your fingers crossed that the pizza will be here just in time for lunch."

Dr. Kirkland sighs, already looking more ragged and tired than usual before he begrudgingly picks up the first packet of papers that need to be tended to.

"Wanna fill out my survey for me, Toris?" Feliks asks with a pleading, lopsided grin.

"No," Toris huffs.

"Okay, well, can I at least copy off of you?"

"No."

"I thought we were friends, bro…How about you, Amelia?"

Amelia scoffs, and she can see smiles ghosting across Dr. Beilschmidt's and Dr. Kirkland's faces. "Sorry, but if there's one thing medical school has taught me, it's that I'm barely literate, so I'll be lucky if I can finish my own survey."

After a bit more back-and-forth banter, they settle into a comfortable silence and get to work—the sooner they can finish, the sooner they can get out of here.  
 _  
But it's so booooring._

Amelia tries to stay concentrated, but she had medium roast coffee instead of dark roast this morning, and so, she can barely keep her eyes open. As a matter of fact, she starts daydreaming about what Maddie's up to when suddenly, someone's phone goes off and breaks her out of her trance.

"My apologies," Dr. Kirkland quickly says, reaching into his pocket and silencing his phone.

She assumes it must have been a call, but she realizes she's mistaken when she sees him take out a bottle of pills from the messenger bag hanging off the back of his chair. It was an alarm to remind himself to take his medication, then, but since when does he take medication? And for what?

It's none of her business, so she forces her gaze away, ignoring the mounting curiosity in her mind. She dutifully finishes what she's supposed to be doing, as difficult as it is. Fortunately, everyone else finishes soon after, and they endure a brief discussion about how to improve workflow and make charting more efficient (one solution being that the university is apparently willing to grant them tablets, so Amelia, Feliks, and Toris can directly input patient information into the computer system by just tapping a few buttons to check off their symptoms and record their vital signs).

Then, the promised pizza arrives, and Amelia digs in, starving. Feliks and Dr. Beilschmidt, in particular, also seem to have big appetites like she does. The small-talk starts again, and Dr. Beilschmidt tells Feliks some kind of grandiose story about how he almost got kicked out of medical school for telling a patient during clinicals to "go screw themselves" after seeing them inappropriately grab a nurse.

Meanwhile, Amelia's attention is more focused on Toris, who seems like he'd rather be anywhere else than sitting to the left of Dr. Kirkland. He's jumpy, and this doesn't escape Dr. Kirkland's notice. He must be aware of how terrified Toris is, surely.

"How are your classes going?" Dr. Kirkland asks him, trying to break the ice.

Toris can hardly look him in the eyes. "T-They're going well."

"Is there anything you're looking forward to learning?"

"Umm…Psych seems like it'll be interesting."

Dr. Kirkland takes a casual sip of water and nods approvingly. "Do you know if you'd want to work on a psychiatric unit upon graduating, or you haven't decided yet?"

"I haven't decided, b-but I think I'd like to do that or pediatric c-critical care."

"Those are both challenging areas, but you're a clever lad, so I'm sure you'd be more than fit for either job," Dr. Kirkland notes, and, for a split second, Amelia worries Toris might fall out of his seat in shock.

They all know how hard it can be to get a compliment from Dr. Kirkland, and so, when those rare moments present themselves, they can be a lot to take in.

"Thank you…Though, my main concern is that I wouldn't be able to cope with seeing really ill children every day."

Again, Dr. Kirkland nods, listening intently. "Personally, I would find it difficult as well. One must balance great patience, empathy, and emotional strength to work with children, especially since, oftentimes, a child doesn't understand what's happening to them like an adult would."

"I don't think I could ever do it," Amelia adds between bites of pizza. "Work with sick kids, I mean. It's fine if they have a cold or whatever, but seeing a kid on a ventilator or with a feeding tube would be tough."

Toris shrugs his shoulders, looking less nervous now. "Then again, someone has to do it, right?"

"That can be true for all of medicine—someone must do it," Dr. Kirkland says, "and by some odd fate, we've all decided to be those individuals."

"Yeah, but who are we to decide we're the right people for it?" Amelia asks, and she feels a heaviness settle in her chest as the words leap off her lips.

"It's a good question. Perhaps the answer lies in the simple fact that we think to ask ourselves those questions in the first place, and, I suspect it also takes a bit of narcissism."

"I'm pretty sure narcissism is a pre-requisite for becoming a doctor," Toris counters without thinking, and then, he flushes bright red the second he realizes what he's said.

But instead of getting offended, Dr. Kirkland laughs dryly and says, "Yes, I suppose so. Spoken like a true nurse."

And finally, Toris is able to look him in the eyes without fear.

* * *

Late night chats with Maddie are the best.

"You never told me what you got on that paper last semester."

Madeline puts down her copy of _One Hundred Years of Solitude_ by Gabriel García Márquez and asks, "What paper?"

"The Kafka one."

"Oh, the one on _The Metamorphosis_? I thought I told you I got an A."

"You didn't tell me. I didn't even know you finished it."

"Well, I got an A."

"Congrats, smarty-pants. What'd you end up writing your thesis on?"

Maddie curls her legs up to her chest and leans back into her favorite armchair. "Well, Gregor, the protagonist, is stuck at a job he hates because he's under a lot of pressure from his family—they expect him to support them. He doesn't know how to break free, and he struggles a lot with finding his personal identity. He wakes up as a bug one day and goes on this whole nightmarish, philosophical self-discovery, but, spoiler alert, he dies of depression at the end anyway and never goes back to being human. So, I basically argued that our lives are largely dictated by the perceptions we have of ourselves and, without a sense of identity, we're doomed to be miserable."

"Yikes."

"And, if we spend our whole lives catering to someone else's expectations of us, we metaphorically die, if not literally. There was also a part in there where I talked about how if we tell ourselves that we're never going to amount to anything or become individuals in our own right, then that's what our reality becomes—bleak and meaningless."

Amelia lets out a long whoosh of breath. "Wow, that's deep, Maddie. Now I'm bummed."

"You asked."

"I know, and I shouldn't have asked if I wasn't prepared for the answer. I feel like I need to go read some uplifting Dr. Seuss stories now."

Maddie giggles and quotes, " _You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself_

 _any direction you choose_."

"That's much better, thanks."

"No problem."

* * *

On the Tuesday after the staff meeting, Amelia finds the resolve to ask Dr. Kirkland for Francine's contact info, and he gives her an email address lest Francine doesn't want her personal cell phone number to be shared with anyone.

Which is how Amelia ends up having lunch with her on Wednesday. They meet at Starbucks, order lattes, and Amelia sets her pride aside so she can speak from the heart.

Amelia figures she should be the first to talk. "It's good to see you. First, I just want to apologize for how things were between us back at the clinic. I was being petty and unfair. You don't have to forgive me. I understand. You've been through a lot and—"

Francine shakes her head and looks at her with shimmering blue eyes—they're shimmering with tears. "No, I was rude to you. Don't deny it, and it's because I felt threatened by you."

"By me?"

"You're smart, and beautiful, and you get along with everyone so well. I thought I had to be ruthless to get ahead, but I've been forced to do a lot of reflection over these past few months…"

Amelia frowns and grips her coffee cup more firmly. "How is everything—if you don't mind me asking?"

Francine tucks a strand of hair into her ponytail and sighs. She looks worn and significantly older somehow. "As you probably know, my boyfriend was in a car accident—another driver ran a red light…He'll never walk again, but he's alive, and that's what matters."

"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must be going through."

"It's okay—or—it will be okay. I just really need to be with him and my family right now, so I need to take a semester off, maybe longer. It means I'll graduate later, but, oh well, that's life, and there are more important things than school sometimes," Francine says softly, glancing out the window. "How are things at the clinic?"

"They're fine. It's not the same without you—I'm alone on Mondays and Tuesdays."

"I'm sure you're doing fine," Francine insists with a friendly smile. "And Dr. Kirkland? How is he? Still keeping up his reputation?"

Amelia laughs. "Actually, I think he's getting soft. It's weird, and I'm not sure what to make of it."

"He likes you—likes the whole team. He practically lives in that clinic, and he cares about it and the students a lot. I always respected that about him," Francine explains, smile growing. "Besides, you guys are probably all he has."

"Now that you mention it, I don't think he's ever really talked about having a family."

"From what I understand, he has brothers, but they're overseas, and he doesn't really get along with them. I know because I've heard them argue on the phone."

Amelia nods and lets out a short laugh again. "Yeah, I think I've heard him arguing over the phone in the past, too, so that explains it."

Francine drinks the rest of her coffee and looks wistful. "I miss being there, but it was time for me to go, even before the accident. There's no one I'd trust more than you to fill my shoes, so don't let me down, okay?"

She's touched, truly. "Okay."

Francine checks her watch for the time and says, "I should get going. Stay in touch. Take care of the clinic and Dr. Kirkland. Tell him I said hello."

"Will do," Amelia promises.

"And one more thing…You're gonna make a great doctor," she says, breath hitching with emotion. "You don't see it now, but I see it. Good luck, Amelia."

Amelia nibbles on her bottom lip to distract herself from the stinging sensation in her own eyes. "Thanks, Francine. That means a lot to me. Good luck to you, too, and stay strong."

She's relieved she got that off her chest. It feels okay to move forward now.

And maybe, she'll be able to find out who she is along the way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** All right, I lied, there are going to be two chapters after this one, haha.

Enjoy and please leave a review if you can!

* * *

It's just another ordinary day at the clinic, but that's misleading because nothing at the clinic is _ever_ ordinary.

"Happy Fri-yay!" Feliks sings as he prances through the front door and starts taking off his jacket. He whistles a bright tune as he takes his seat at the desk and hangs his stethoscope around his neck.

Amelia's not sure how he's able to stay in such a perpetually good mood, especially considering the fact that he had a four-hour lab class this morning. "Feliks, I don't even know what weekends are anymore. I have a pharmacology exam on Monday, and if I have to memorize the name of one more beta blocker, my brain might explode."

"Hah! Sucks to be you, but you'll be happy to hear I passed my practical with flying colors. I had to give a dummy subcutaneous and intramuscular injections."

"Nice, but let's see you do it on a real person now," Amelia challenges him with a smirk.

"Wanna volunteer?"

She quickly shakes her head and starts organizing some folders for today's appointments. "That's okay. Maybe another time—preferably when you get your license and I can trust you."

Feliks puts a hand over his heart and gasps. "You don't trust me? Fine, I'll just ask Toris…Where is he by the way?"

"I doubt Toris trusts you any more than I do, and he should be here any minute, probably. He just got out of clinicals at the hospital, I think. Kirkland's going to be late though."

The smile on Feliks's face drops and he raises both of his brows. "He's going to be _what_? Dr. K's never late, not since I started working here, anyway. I think he's taken like one sick day or something, but otherwise, he's always been here and on time. Did something happen?"

Huh. That's a little strange.

"I don't know. He called about ten minutes before you came in to say he was getting on the train and was going to be here about thirty minutes late, so we're going to have to push back some appointments and hope we don't have too many walk-ins," Amelia explains. She didn't think much of the call. She told Dr. Kirkland they'd handle things and do their best to take vitals and any medical histories for the new patients in the meantime. It didn't sound like something serious to her.

A moment later, Toris ambles in, shaking snow off of his shoes and hurrying to the desk. "Sorry, I'm a little late, I—" he pauses to look down the hallway and sees that all of the exam rooms are empty and the door to Dr. Kirkland's office is closed and locked. "Wait. He's not here?"

"Nope. Bizarre, huh?" Feliks confirms, spinning in his swivel chair—something he does a lot when he's in deep thought.

Amelia clicks her tongue at both of them. "Honestly, what's the big deal? Everyone runs late now and then."

"Everyone except Dr. K," Feliks insists.

It's ominously quiet for the next half hour. Amelia gets some patients set up in the first two exam rooms so Dr. Kirkland can get straight to work as soon as he arrives, but it feels weird to be doing all of this without his nearby presence.

But fortunately, all of their qualms are finally put to rest when Dr. Kirkland comes trekking in, fashionably late. His eyebrows are drawn into a straight line of displeasure, his face is red, and his teeth are clenched. Still, he makes a good effort at trying to contain his anger when he approaches them. His hair is a little more tousled than usual, and it seems as though he didn't get the chance to shave this morning because there are some faint signs of stubble on his chin.

"I apologize, everyone," he tells them as he reaches the front desk and leans an arm on it. "My phone has been malfunctioning since Wednesday night, and I tried to reset it but now my entire contacts list, calendar, and all of the reminders I had set up on it have magically disappeared, so I've not been able to keep up with my normal schedule. If anyone tries to reach me through the office phone, can you please write down their number and tell them I'll return their call later?"

"No worries," Feliks assures, recovering well from his previous astonishment. "Did you figure out how to fix it? If you backed up the data on your computer, maybe you can get it back."

"I honestly don't have the time right now to look into it."

"Mind if I take a look?"

Dr. Kirkland fishes his phone out of his messenger bag and hands it to Feliks. "Be my guest. It's useless to me at the moment anyway. I have to tend to the patients now."

Amelia takes the chance to give him a folder containing the chart of his first patient of the day and says, "I already got everything set up in exam room one."

"Thank you," he sighs, looking burned out, and then, he storms away, getting back to business.

When he's out of earshot, Feliks murmurs, "Tread carefully today, he's pissed."

"Maybe it'll be better in a few hours. Try to fix his phone before he completely loses it," Amelia suggests, watching as Feliks scrolls through the phone's settings and tries to see if Dr. Kirkland has any information backed up on the cloud, but before he can make any progress, the phone completely freezes and shuts off by itself.

"I think the battery is faulty. No sense in having it replaced because it'll probably be expensive. He's better off just getting a new phone," Feliks concludes, placing it back on the desk. "I'm not gonna be able to fix it."

"Well, I guess we'll be facing his wrath for the rest of the day, then," Toris says, and Amelia groans.

And sure enough, Dr. Kirkland is in an absolutely dismal mood from that point on. They try to steer clear of him as much as possible. Feliks gives him his phone back and relays the bad news about how it's not an issue that can be easily fixed. Of course, this only serves to make Dr. Kirkland even crankier.

Thankfully, they're not too busy today. They end up with only a handful of walk-ins, and the appointments go by fast.

Amelia just watches the clock, wanting nothing more than to go home because she knows if she gets stuck within Dr. Kirkland's vicinity for too long, he's going to snap at her, and she's going to be tempted to snap back.

Just a little longer…

"Amelia, can you do me an itty, bitty favor?" Feliks suddenly asks as they're starting to clean up for the day.

"What do you need?"

"So, I have somewhere I need to be right after this—a family thing. I can't stay late like I usually do on Fridays to check our inventory and make sure we aren't running low on any supplies in storage. Can you just do a quick check of it for me? I'd really appreciate it. I'll buy you coffee on Monday."

He wants her to stay alone with Dr. Kirkland for at least fifteen more minutes? Is he trying to mess with her? Normally, this wouldn't be a problem because she's actually starting to get along with Dr. Kirkland, but considering his temper this evening, today is an exception.

That said, she's been attempting to work on her empathy skills, which means she needs to bite her tongue and do this favor for Feliks.

"Well, I _do_ love coffee," she tells him with a conceding smile. "Okay. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, you're a doll. I'll make it up to you," Feliks promises.

And so, Toris and Feliks leave for the night while she hangs around for a while. The last patient of the day has already left, too, and if she hurries, maybe she can get out of here without even seeing Dr. Kirkland because he's probably in his office. She gets a notebook and pen and hastily makes her way into the storage room, opening cabinets and pulling out drawers at lightning speed to finish as soon as possible.

Apparently, she doesn't work fast enough, because midway through her search, she notices Dr. Kirkland standing in the doorway, and she just about jumps out of her skin, startled. She quickly collects herself and strains a smile, hoping that if she acts peppy, he won't be as likely to get upset with her.

"You're still here?" he asks, but he doesn't sound annoyed or angry. It's just a question.

She lifts her eyes to look at him and notices how heavily he's leaning on the doorframe. Maybe she's just imagining it, but is he…swaying?

A sudden sense of foreboding washes over her, and she can't explain how or why. All she knows is that something isn't right. Vigilantly, she sets down her notebook and pen on one of the cabinets and narrows her gaze at him. "I'm just taking stock…Is everything okay?"

He looks pale—paler than usual, anyway—and his forehead is scrunched as though he has a bad headache. He stares back at her with a dazed expression and says, unconvincingly, "Fine."

"You don't look fine…Maybe you should sit down? Are you feeling dizzy?" she asks, very concerned. Her previous fear that he would yell at her or start an argument is now a thing of the past.

Instead of responding to her questions, Dr. Kirkland looks down at his left arm as though he's regarding a work of art, and says in an eerily calm tone, "My arm is going numb."

She starts to take a step toward him, but before she can reach his side, his legs give out from underneath him and he falls backward, hitting his head on the wall behind him in the hallway and slumping into a half-seated, half-lying position.

"Shit!" she shouts as her breath catches in her throat.

She rushes over and drops to her knees next to him, adrenaline coursing through her veins. He's still conscious, fortunately, but he's very obviously glassy-eyed and not totally alert. She presses two fingers to his neck, finds his pulse, and sighs with some relief when she feels that it's steady and normal. His breathing, however, is a little too shallow for comfort.

She props him up against the wall so he's upright and whips out her phone, ready to call 911 if need be, but first, she wants to make sure it's warranted. Maybe he simply felt faint for a moment. She reaches out a hand and cautiously touches the back of his head to see how hard he hit it.

Her fingers gently feel along his scalp. He's not bleeding, but she can feel a spot of heat beginning to form—an indication of the swelling that'll develop in the next few minutes.

"Dr. Kirkland? Say something."

He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a series of slurred, incoherent mumbles.

Oh, God. What's she supposed to do? There's no one else in the clinic, and she's useless. If Dr. Kirkland could at least give her some instructions, she could do more to help.

Without waiting any longer, she calls 911. She tells the operator that her boss felt his arm going numb before he collapsed and hit his head, and that he's disoriented but conscious. She gives the address of the clinic, gets told by the operator to stay with Dr. Kirkland and to try to get him to talk again, but that's when she notices that the left side of his face looks like it's drooping a little.

Damn.

She grasps his chin so she can lift his head up a bit and look at him straight-on. Sure enough, she wasn't imagining it—his left cheek is definitely drooping.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. I think he's having a stroke. Please hurry," she begs into the phone as she releases him, losing what little composure she had. She feels just about ready to burst into tears at any given moment.

"Do you know if he's on any medication?" the operator asks calmly.

She takes a deep breath and tries to think…Yes, the pills she saw him take the other day, but what were they?

His messenger bag is in his office. She leaves his side for just a few seconds, snatches the bag from his desk, and comes dashing back with it. She flips it upside-down and watches a stack of papers fall out along with pens, keys, a small bottle of hand sanitizer, headphones, a charger cable, a notebook, his wallet, a novel she doesn't recognize, his broken phone, and finally, an orange Rx bottle of medication.

She reads the label and suddenly, everything is obvious. He's on blood thinners. She's willing to bet he's been missing doses ever since his phone stopped reminding him to take them.

"He's on a blood thinner, but I don't think he's been taking it for the past two or three days," she tells the operator.

Dr. Kirkland, meanwhile, gives a slurred mumble of distress followed by a loud groan, and Amelia presses a hand to his shoulder to hold him still and, hopefully, offer some comfort. "Shh, help is coming. Just hang in there…Don't worry. You're gonna be okay."

At last, a paramedic and an EMT arrive. Amelia steps back but stays nearby as she watches them quickly assess Dr. Kirkland and carefully lift him up and onto a stretcher. He lets out another horrible groan, and the EMT pats his shoulder soothingly as he tucks some thermal blankets around him to keep him warm once they head outside.

Meanwhile, Amelia starts picking up his things off of the floor and chucks them back into his bag before slinging it over her shoulder and taking it with her—he'll probably want his stuff later.

"Are you a relative?" the paramedic asks.

She shakes her head and remembers what Francine said the other day. "No, but I'm all he's got right now."

"Then, come on," the paramedic says, and so, she follows them after locking up the clinic.

In the back of the cramped, suffocating, musty ambulance, an oxygen mask is placed over Dr. Kirkland's nose and mouth. Then, a penlight gets shined into each of his eyes, and the verdict can't be good because the paramedic purses his lips unhappily.

Dr. Kirkland still has that far-off, unfocused look in his eyes, and Amelia wonders how much of this he's actually comprehending and whether he'll remember it later.

The hospital is no more than a seven-minute drive away, and when they arrive, she's allowed to stay with him for a little while. Again, she's not sure how cognizant he is of his surroundings, but if he's registering any of this, he must be terrified like any person in his condition would be. What if this turns out to be life-threatening? Someone needs to stay with him, even if it's just his employee. She doesn't have the heart to step away for a single moment because what if something terrible happens in that moment and he's left all alone? She doesn't want to imagine the horrible possibilities.

She stands next to him, looming by his bed the whole time once they're in the ER. He flutters between various levels of alertness. Every couple of minutes, he'll try to say something, but it always comes out indistinguishable, and the oxygen mask muffles his voice anyway. She tries to quiet him so he can save his energy, but her reassurances don't seem to help much. She holds onto the strap of his messenger bag tightly with one hand and places her other hand to his shoulder so that if he can't see/recognize her, he'll at least feel someone else's presence.

Then, he gets taken for a CT scan followed by an ultrasound of his carotid artery, and she can't be there for that, so she takes the opportunity to step off of the unit for a while to call Maddie and let her know where she is and that she might not be home for a while.

"Oh, my God. Is he okay?" Maddie says as soon as she gives her a brief summary of what happened.

"I don't know. Gotta wait for the results of the CT. I'm gonna text Feliks and Toris in a bit and let them know. I think I've also got Dr. Beilschmidt's number in my email somewhere, so I should probably give him a heads up, too."

"All right. Well, I just got home, so I can be there in like forty minutes."

"You don't have to come. It's okay. I can handle being here alone," Amelia assures her, even though she's not sure that's entirely true.

"But I want to make sure he's going to be fine, too."

Amelia feels a smile tug at her lips, and it makes her feel a little warmer. "Aww, Maddie, that's really sweet of you. I shouldn't have expected anything less."

"Yeah, well, he took care of you when you were really sick, so I owe him," she says.

"Okay, I'll see you soon then. I'll text you if I get any updates."

"Yes, please, do. See you in a bit."

She decides to go back through her work email to find Dr. Beilschmidt's number so she can call him next because he'll know what to do, and she trusts him to make sure Dr. Kirkland is in good hands and isn't stuck with a shoddy team looking after him. It's going to kill her inside if he gets misdiagnosed or suffers a totally preventable complication of some sort.

" _Hallo?"_

"Hi, Dr. Beilschmidt. It's Amelia, from the clinic. Sorry to be calling you at this time."

There's some background noise that sounds like it's coming from a television, but the volume gets lowered and Dr. Beilschmidt says, "Hey, kiddo. What's up? You sound upset. Is everything okay?"

"Umm, no, not really. Dr. Kirkland's in the hospital. He collapsed at work. I'm outside of the ER right now."

" _Scheisse_ , how did that happen? What did he do to himself this time?"

"It's suspected he had a stroke. He's getting a CT scan and ultrasound now."

" _What_? Damn…All right, I'm on my way, okay? You're at the hospital by the clinic, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah."

"Who else is there?"

"Just me."

Dr. Beilschmidt tuts, and Amelia can hear him putting on his shoes. "How're you holding up?"

"A little shaken up," Amelia admits, rubbing a hand over her eyes, "and worried."

"It'll be okay, honey. I'm gonna head out now. Call me if he gets worse."

"Will do. Thanks, Dr. Beilschmidt."

She sighs, sends out a group text to Feliks and Toris, and heads back inside to find out if there's any update on Dr. Kirkland's condition. While she was gone, he was admitted and transferred up to neurology, which isn't surprising. So, she takes the elevator up to the new unit and asks a nurse if she can see him. He's not allowed to have visitors yet but the nurse assigned to his care will come and let her know when it's okay.

Amelia just hopes she gets let in before visiting hours end in another two hours and she gets kicked out completely. She takes a seat in the waiting area and grabs herself some snacks from the vending machine. Time goes by so slowly in the hospital…

She's still got Dr. Kirkland's bag with her, and so, she takes out the novel she saw from earlier, deciding some reading material might help distract her. It's a memoir written by some general practitioner who compares his experience with working in the American healthcare system to working for the British NHS—typical stuff she'd expect Dr. Kirkland to be reading.

But before she even finishes the second chapter, a nurse tells her she can come onto the unit and breaks her out of her ennui. She carefully puts the book away, picks up the bag again, and plods after her.

At the nurses' station, a doctor stops them in their tracks and says, "Hey, you're the girl who came in with Dr. Kirkland, right?"

How does he know that?

"Umm…Yes," she replies, confused.

"Oh, sorry. Dr. Kirkland is one of my colleagues, and word travels fast in the hospital, especially when it concerns the staff," the doctor clarifies with a tiny smile. "He's gonna be okay. Turns out it was a transient ischemic attack, or what we like to call a—"

"Mini-stroke," Amelia cuts in with a nod. "I know. I'm a medical student."

"Ah, gotcha. That makes things easier to explain. Anyway, we've got him on blood thinners, and he's looking a lot better already. If his other labs come back fine, he should be discharged sometime tomorrow. TIAs can often turn into full-blown strokes if left untreated, so it's a good thing you called for help when you did. He's still concussed because he hit his head pretty hard, but he's getting pain meds. You can see him now if you want, just be warned that he's gonna be a little drowsy."

Her heart begins to calm at long last, and she lets out a heavy sigh of relief. This could have been _much_ worse, and he's lucky he's going to walk away without any lasting damage. "Thanks."

"Of course. Walk straight down, and it'll be the second door on your right," the doctor says.

She makes sure her eyes are dry and not too bloodshot before she enters the room. Gosh, why is she being so dramatic and emotional about this? He's going to be fine. She can stop blubbering like a little kid now.

When she steps inside, she sees that, yes, he does look a lot better. He's no longer pale and clammy. He's on a cardiac monitor, an IV, and a nasal cannula, but doesn't look too much worse for wear otherwise.

He sure doesn't seem nearly as intimidating as he usually does now that he's lethargic and in a hospital gown. When he sees her, he blinks wearily and tries to sit up without much success.

She musters an easygoing smile and invites herself to sit in the plastic chair by his bed. "Hey, there. How're you feeling?" she asks, keeping her voice soft and low because he probably still has a headache.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, trying to lift his head up before letting it fall back to his pillow again a moment later, a sign that he's still dizzy. "You didn't have to stay."

"What are you talking about? Of course, I had to stay."

He could at least show a little gratitude after the horrors he just put her through!

"I'll be fine now," he insists, attempting yet again to sit up, and Amelia has to resist the urge to push him back down.

"Stop. Don't try to get up. You need to rest. You have a concussion."

He grimaces but continues straining himself until he's sitting upright. Then, he glances over at her with heavy-lidded eyes and manages a weak smile. "You dealt with your first medical emergency. Congratulations."

She wants to punch him—hard—but you shouldn't hit a person who's in a hospital bed. "Are you kidding me? _Congratulations_? You had a fucking stroke! Thank God someone was still in the clinic."

So much for keeping her voice down.

Dr. Kirkland winces and says, "No, I had a transient ischemic attack. There's a difference. It was harmless."

"Yeah, well, it didn't look harmless while you were lying on the ground!" she shouts, unable to hold back her frustrations any longer. She feels like she might start crying again, but she doesn't want to do it in front of him and look ridiculous. "Take your blood thinners next time. Jesus Christ…"

She presses her hands into her eyes and quickly swipes away any potential tears with a sniffle, feeling stupid.

Dr. Kirkland's dry smile is promptly replaced by a remorseful frown. "I'm sorry—you must have been frightened."

"Yeah, you think?"

"Well, everything's all right now, so you mustn't worry. Thank you for the concern," he says quietly, hissing when he accidentally jostles his IV.

"Don't thank me. Just don't let it happen again," she mutters, slumping her shoulders and frowning at him. Slowly, her anger ebbs away. "You never answered my question, by the way. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get you?"

"I'm fine, and no, but if you see the nurse, tell her to get me the AMA forms."

And just like that, her anger sparks to life again. She's going to kill him. He wants to _discharge_ _himself_ _against medical advice_? Over her dead body. She wasn't worried sick about him for the past few hours just so he can go home and collapse again. "No! Your doctor said you're staying until tomorrow, at the very least, and they're still waiting on some labs to come back. You can't just _leave_! You need to let everyone make sure you're okay and that there's nothing else going on before you walk out of here. That's what you would advise any other patient to do."

He broods and readies his counter-argument, but that's when another visitor comes shuffling into the room—Maddie. She must have changed out of her work clothes because she's in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Sorry to interrupt! Amelia wasn't answering my texts…Umm, I hope you're feeling better, Dr. Kirkland," she says with a sheepish smile, and that's when Amelia notices she's carrying some flowers in a small vase—yellow tulips and white daisies.

Honestly, sometimes, her sister is painfully nice.

"Hello, again. I apologize that we keep running into one another under dreadful circumstances," Dr. Kirkland says, much more cordial with Madeline than with Amelia.

Jerk. He must've already forgotten who saved his butt today.

Maddie laughs and places the flowers on the adjustable over-bed table that's perched off to the right. It's normally supposed to be used for meals, but Dr. Kirkland got admitted a little too late to make it for dinner.

His strength must be escaping him because he can no longer stay sitting up and has to lie down. He then looks thoughtfully at the flowers, turns a little pink in the cheeks, and finally says, "Thank you, poppet."

Maddie smiles brightly at him and nods. "You're welcome."

 _Poppet_? Why does she get to be regarded so kindly, and with pet names nonetheless? What a traitor!

Then, someone else comes barging through the door again, and this time, when Dr. Kirkland sees who it is, he groans and orders, "Get out!"

Dr. Beilschmidt snickers and comes traipsing over to the bedside as well, critically looking Dr. Kirkland up and down. "Ehh, you're not as sick as I thought you were. Heard you had a TIA. Scary stuff."

"I'm fine," Dr. Kirkland growls, and his headache must be getting worse because he starts creasing his forehead again.

Dr. Beilschmidt leans down a bit to look directly at his eyes and glowers. "Still concussed, I see. Your right pupil is bigger than the left, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

That's when Dr. Beilschmidt notices Maddie, and he furrows his brows at her. "Whoa, now I'm the one seeing double."

Maddie laughs and extends her hand to him to introduce herself. "Hi, I'm Madeline, Amelia's sister. It's nice to meet you."

Dr. Beilschmidt shakes her hand and grins. "Good, because I was about to ask to be admitted, too."

And suddenly, everything's a lot less daunting now that Amelia's got backup. As much as Dr. Beilschmidt likes to joke around, she's positive he's already spoken to the doctor and the nurse and will be keeping an eye on their every move from a distance. She's glad he's here.

"Okay, well, it's getting crowded, so I'll come back later," he says, ready to turn around and leave, but Amelia stops him.

"Wait. He wants to request an AMA," she informs, blocking his path.

Dr. Beilschmidt rolls his eyes and cocks his head at Dr. Kirkland. "Really? Are we seriously going to go through this? I know you want to escape as soon as possible, but you can escape when your pupils are normal again. I spoke to your nurse, and she said she wants you to improve that BP of yours, so you're not going anywhere. Got it? Good. If you try to leave, I _will_ find out, and I won't be happy, so don't do it."

Dr. Kirkland grumbles something under his breath about how he doesn't appreciate people meddling in his personal affairs, but he must be pretty tired because he doesn't keep protesting after that. He can hardly keep his eyes open, and that's when they all decide it's time to go and let him rest.

Before that though, Dr. Beilschmidt pats his shoulder to rouse him a little and says, "Use the call button if you need it, understand? Don't be the tough guy."

Dr. Kirkland just barely nods his head.

"Okay. Rest up. I'll be hanging around until visiting hours end, and I'll try to drop by in the morning for a bit. Goodnight."

And with that Dr. Beilschmidt leads them all out of the room and quietly shuts the door behind them. They go back to the waiting area outside of the unit, at which point Amelia realizes she has a slew of text messages from Feliks and Toris asking her if they should come to the hospital. She tells them visiting hours are ending soon anyway, so there's no point. Besides, it looks like Dr. Kirkland's in the clear.

"All right, you kiddos can go home and get some sleep. I've got things covered, and I'll make sure to have a word with the night-shift before I leave. Good job today, Amelia."

Amelia nods and lets herself be enveloped in a comforting hug when Dr. Beilschmidt holds his arms out to her. He gives her a little squeeze and smiles again once he releases her.

"Thanks," she tells him with an exhausted sigh. She needed that.

"He's too stubborn to admit it, but he's grateful," Dr. Beilschmidt whispers, and then he gives her a final pat on the back.

"Oh, I know," she says with a smile of her own before walking toward the elevators with Maddie.

She'll be back first thing in the morning. There isn't any doubt in her mind that Dr. Kirkland would do the same for her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Look who made you guys wait a whole month again for another update! :'(

I'm sorry! I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. The next chapter is the last one, and I was initially going to combine the two, but this chapter was running a little long so I decided to separate them. I won't make you wait as long for that one, I pinkie-promise.

Enjoy!

* * *

" _Dr. Jones?"_

She's staring down at a motionless body. Everyone is depending on her to make the next move—to bring this blonde-haired woman with blue lips and fingertips whom she does not recognize back to life. She starts chest compressions and orders a round of epinephrine. Half a dozen pairs of eyes burn holes into her skin.

Nothing. No pulse. No breath sounds…Even if she does manage to resuscitate her now, she'll be brain dead from oxygen depletion. She has to call it—pronounce that it's over—but she can't. She just stares and stares, hands pushing harder and harder against the woman's ribcage until…

The woman's face transforms, and it's Madeline lying on the backboard.

Amelia freezes, draws her trembling hands back, and opens her mouth to scream.

* * *

"Wake up, sleeping beauty! Breakfast is getting cold. _Ameeeeelia_. _Hellooo_?"

She jolts forward and gasps, sucking in a refreshing, giant gulp of air. She's covered in sweat, and Maddie is looking down at her with a confused expression.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Dumb dream," she says with a breathless laugh.

She rubs her face and gets up, following the enticing scent of chocolate-chip pancakes emanating from the kitchen. Maddie has already prepared a plate for her because she's fantastic, and Amelia makes a mental note to do the dishes after their done eating to thank her for the trouble she went through to cook.

She stretches her arms over her head with a yawn and regrets staying up late last night to re-watch the first season of _Grey's Anatomy_. That, coupled with the events from yesterday, is probably what fueled her nightmare.

Maddie sets a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. "Yesterday was a hard day. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I wasn't the one who had a TIA," she says with a scoff as she's cutting up her pancakes with a knife.

"No, but still…You know what I mean. It's not easy seeing someone you care about become sick."

"Wait a sec. Who said I care?"

"Oh, come on. You're not fooling me."

Amelia hides her face behind her coffee cup and sighs, "Okay, so maybe I don't hate Kirkland, and I definitely wouldn't want to see him die, but that doesn't mean I care. Besides, if it were a real stroke, he could've died because I didn't have any clue as to what I was doing."

"There was nothing you could have done. It's not like you could've run a CT scan from the clinic or anything. You're being too hard on yourself," Maddie counters, wiping down the stove with a damp washcloth because she spilled some pancake mix earlier.

"I know, but my first reaction was to look for someone else I could turn to. When I'm an actual doctor, I can't do that. I won't be able to call for help because _I'll_ be the help."

"Give yourself time."

"…My biggest fear is that I'll be a dumb doctor and kill a patient."

"You're not going to be a dumb doctor, but you don't have to know everything at first either. Everyone has to start learning somewhere, and you've got plenty of time before you actually have to start working on your own."

"…Yeah. I needed to hear that, even though you're just saying it to be nice and reassuring…Now, I hope you made enough pancakes for seconds."

"Duh, who do you think I am? Do you want some sliced strawberries on top, too?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

* * *

When she returns to the hospital at around eight o'clock in the morning, she walks in on Dr. Kirkland arguing with Dr. Beilschmidt about the heparin he's on and how it's unnecessary because he's ready to go home and all heparin does is make his nose bleed—and so on.

"Good morning! Is this a bad time? I can come back later," she says as she greets them, lingering close to the door in case her presence is unwanted.

"Hey, kiddo. Actually, this is perfect timing because I was just about to leave. I've got work to get back to," Dr. Beilschmidt remarks with a pearly smile followed by a wink. "Do me a favor and make sure Dr. Kirkland behaves himself. If he gives you any trouble, give me a call."

She laughs while Dr. Kirkland just scowls and makes a derisive noise under his breath, obviously cranky after being stuck in the hospital overnight.

"Bye! Thanks for everything."

Dr. Beilschmidt nods and gives her a fist-bump before he saunters out. She wishes he could stay a bit longer, mostly because she doesn't want to be left on her own again, but, of course, he has patients of his own to see, and he's on a tight schedule.

Now that she has the chance to look at him properly, she sees that Dr. Kirkland looks the same way he did last night, except he's not quite as visibly tired, which is probably a good thing. Still crabby though…

"How's your head feeling?" she dares to ask.

He scrunches his brows. "Sore."

"Maybe you should ask for more pain meds."

If he's openly admitting he's in pain, it's likely more than a small ache. That said, she'll be stunned if he decides to accept help for it. He's a hard-headed and stubborn mule, and that's partially how he landed himself here in the first place.

Fortunately, she doesn't need to worry about trying to convince him to listen because the nurse comes in to take his vitals, so she'll have to be the one to deal with him.

"I'll step out," Amelia says, getting up to leave so Dr. Kirkland can have some privacy.

But he surprises her by grumbling, "Oh, it's all right."

He must _really_ be unwell. He's not even upset by the fact that she's still in the room?

She stays, but she pushes her chair a little farther away from his bedside to give the nurse more space to work. This'll be a good opportunity to see first-hand what the assessment of a patient post-TIA looks like. She might as well try to learn something from the man's misery.

"How are you feeling, Arthur? Any pain?" the nurse asks as she wraps a blood pressure cuff around his right arm.

Amelia perks up her ears and looks at him expectantly, waiting to find out if he's going to blatantly lie or not.

He doesn't, shockingly enough. "My head still feels as though someone took a mallet to it," he says unhappily, screwing his eyes shut.

"How bad is it on a scale of one to ten?"

"Six."

"You're being modest. We'll increase your dosage of painkillers…BP looks good, at least. I'm just going to check your eyes now."

She flashes a penlight at each of his pupils, and he squints in response and fails to hold back a wince.

"Still concussed...You seem fairly alert though. Can you give me the date by any chance?"

He blinks as if to clear his vision, and Amelia has to make a conscious effort not to blurt out the answer for him. "Yesterday was what? Wednesday? So, it's the sixth? No…That's not right…Wait."

"It's Saturday, the ninth. Yesterday was Friday, but that's all right, dear, don't worry."

He groans and buries his face in his hands. "It's not. I should have known that."

"You're not at a hundred percent yet," the nurse insists, flicking the penlight off. "Let's try something else now. Can you lift both of your arms for me...? Uh-huh. How's your left arm feeling? Any numbness?"

"It's fine, and no."

The nurse takes hold of his left hand and says, "Can you squeeze my hand…? Good. Your grip strength is fine."

He clicks his tongue in irritation and adds, "It's just a headache. I can be discharged. I'll take some pain medication when I get home."

"Well, the attending physician hasn't determined that you're ready to be discharged yet, but I'll let you know as soon as she does."

"Who's the attending today? Hedervary? I want to speak with her."

The nurse keeps up her patient smile as she puts her stethoscope on his chest. "I'll let her know. Relax. How are you feeling on the heparin? Dizzy?"

"…Somewhat."

"Okay. I'm going to help you turn onto your side to check your breathing—don't want you sitting up unnecessarily," she explains, carefully rolling him over before moving her stethoscope to his back.

"Honestly, there's no reason to—!"

"Shh. Take a deep breath."

He frowns and angrily takes an impatient breath.

"Thank you. You're doing a great job, dear."

"Don't mollify me," he hisses.

The nurse merely smiles warmly again, still unfazed. "Do you think you'd be able to eat and drink without choking? You're not having difficulty swallowing? And be honest, Arthur, because if you start asphyxiating, I'm going to have a lot of extra paperwork to fill out once I get you breathing again."

"I'm fine. I can eat."

"You're certain?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll have some breakfast brought up for you, then. Oh, and also," she pauses, reaches into the pocket of her scrubs, and takes out a plastic yellow bracelet that she then secures around Dr. Kirkland's wrist—the same wrist on which he has his hospital bracelet.

"Really?" he snarls incredulously when he realizes what it is, glaring.

Amelia has to stifle a laugh. She knows what's written on this new bracelet because she has seen other patients wear them during her clinical rotations—usually the elderly and disabled. It says "FALL RISK," which essentially means Dr. Kirkland's not allowed out of bed because he's likely to fall and injure himself.

"Yes, really. The last thing you need is to hit your head again. I'll be back to check on you once you've eaten, and I'll bring your pain medication."

With that, the nurse leaves, and Amelia allows herself a few snickers at the man's expense.

"Oh, belt up. See what I have to put up with?" he growls, rubbing his forehead with a sharp grimace.

"You might have just earned yourself a longer stay since you didn't know the date."

"I know…Bloody hell."

The morning has more in store for him than he's apparently prepared for. After the nurse adjusts his meds, the door to the hospital room comes flying open once more, and a gleeful Feliks comes trotting in while Toris timidly tiptoes in behind him.

Friday's crew is back together again.

"Dr. K! Hope you're feeling better!" Feliks exclaims as Toris places a "get well soon" card on the same table where Maddie's flowers are perched.

Dr. Kirkland seems torn between being irritated that he's been on the receiving end of so many visitors and thanking the boys for going through the effort of stopping by. In the end, he settles for a begrudging tone of gratitude and refrains from shouting at them to go away. He's being impressively patient today, all things considered.

"Thank you, lads, but there really isn't any need for all of this—"

"Stop! It's the least we could do!" Feliks says, flourishing a hand in the air to wave off Dr. Kirkland's complaints. "Can we get you anything? Did you have something to eat yet?"

"You should all go home and—"

This time, Amelia pointedly cuts him off and answers Feliks's question for him. "They're bringing something up now."

"Good. You've gotta eat to get your strength back, Dr. K."

Maybe it's just Amelia's imagination running wild again, but she thinks she sees Dr. Kirkland's shoulders relax a little. There's just a teeny tiny hint of a smile on his face, but only if one looks closely. His cheeks also seem to be flushed with a bit more color.

"You all probably have a great deal of studying and schoolwork to do—" he begins to say, trying to send them off again.

"It can wait," Toris insists, overcoming his sheepishness. He sits on the windowsill across the room with Feliks, making it clear that they're not going anywhere.

And although things seemed pretty bleak and terrible yesterday, Amelia finds herself smiling and feeling a familiar warmth in her chest upon being surrounded by the people who have become like a second family to her over all of these months. They're a team, and for the first time, she doesn't feel like a daft student who needs to constantly be chastised by her superiors. She feels respected—like she has finally earned her place among them.

While she's mulling this over, someone from the kitchen brings in a meal tray, and Dr. Kirkland manages to sit up on his own to unenthusiastically pick at his eggs, pancakes, and fruit. Unfortunately, the meal is missing the most important component—tea. He has to settle for water and orange juice. Toris offers to go and find some tea on his behalf, but Dr. Kirkland tells him it's all right—he doesn't want to cause a fuss.

And as he says that, he suddenly drops his fork and brings a hand up to his nose because it starts spontaneously bleeding.

"I told them the damned heparin would do this," he complains as he grabs some napkins from the meal tray and dabs at his nostrils.

"I'm sure they'll take you off of it soon," Amelia says calmingly.

"I should have been discharged already."

As though hearing his gripes from a distance, the door to the private room comes creaking open for the umpteenth time, but it's not the nurse or another visitor—it's the person Dr. Kirkland has been waiting to argue with for a while now—the attending physician, Dr. Hedervary.

She comes strolling into the room with a buoyant smile and twinkling eyes, also unbothered by his livid expression. She stands at the foot of his bed and says lightly, "Hello, Arthur! You've been asking to see me? I'm flattered. Though, I heard Gilbert was here earlier, and he didn't even bother to come looking for me—makes me wonder why I bothered tutoring him in microbiology when we were in school…Are these the students you're mentoring?"

So, they all know each other fairly well, then. Why is that not surprising? Amelia tries to imagine the three of them complaining about exams and labs like she does with Feliks and Toris.

"Discharge me, Elizaveta," Dr. Kirkland requests bluntly, tired of banter and small-talk. Fortunately, his nose has stopped bleeding. "This is becoming ridiculous."

"According to your nurse, you're still suffering from a concussion."

"Which can be treated at home."

"Under normal circumstances, yes, but I can't trust you to treat yourself. Besides, you need to be monitored, and unless someone is going to take you home and stay with you for at least the next twenty-four hours, you're staying here."

Dr. Kirkland clicks his tongue in annoyance and stares at the rest of his untouched breakfast balefully. "I can monitor myself."

"We'll watch him!" Feliks suggests, grinning.

"No, absolutely not—!"

"That sounds like a lovely idea!" Dr. Hedervary agrees, looking immensely satisfied. "It's your choice, Arthur. Either you stay in the hospital or you go home and let these students and Gilbert check in on you periodically."

Dr. Kirkland's jaw twitches with displeasure. "This is absurd."

"Then, you're choosing to stay in the hospital?"

The cardiac monitor lets out three warning beeps to indicate his heart rate is going up, and then, he finally mutters through gritted teeth, "Fine, I'll go with them. Now, discharge me."

"Great! I'll be back with the forms. In the meantime, finish your breakfast," Dr. Hedervary says, sounding a lot like a mother chiding a small child.

Amelia can't suppress her snort of laughter, and Dr. Kirkland pointedly glares at her.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Of course, this news has completely taken away Dr. Kirkland's appetite, but he finishes the eggs and fruit, at the very least, and by then Dr. Hedervary is gallivanting back with some papers for him to sign, true to her word. The nurse takes out his IV, disconnects his leads, and then they all leave him alone so he can change.

And while he's doing that, Dr. Hedervary pulls Amelia, Feliks, and Toris aside and instructs them carefully, "Make sure he gets home okay and takes some pain medication. I'll send Gilbert—Dr. Beilschmidt—to keep an eye on him tonight, so someone just needs to stay with him until then. Don't let him read, use his phone, cook, or do anything physically or cognitively strenuous. He should be resting. Also, no TV for more than twenty minutes at a time. Once he takes the medication, he won't give you a hard time because he'll be tired. If he feels worse, let Gilbert know, and he'll arrange for him to be brought back to the hospital if necessary. Okay?"

The three of them nod, but Toris is the only one taking notes on all of this. Dr. Hedervary asks them if they have any questions, and when they don't come up with anything, she gives them each a pat on the shoulder, wishes them good luck, and leaves.

"Okay, so who's going to take one for the team and go back in there to ask him if he's ready to go?" Feliks asks, sticking a piece of bubblegum in his mouth before chewing on it anxiously. "Anyone wanna offer themselves up as tribute?"

"Not me," Toris whispers, taking a step back.

"And I'm a girl, so if I walk in and he doesn't have a shirt on or something, it's going to be awkward," Amelia notes, coming up with the perfect excuse.

Feliks sighs and then takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Damn. Okay. I'll do it. Are we requesting a wheelchair for him?"

Toris snorts. "Do you want him to kill you?"

"I mean, he might kill me anyway, so I have nothing to lose," Feliks says with a dark grin before finally producing the bravery needed to enter the room.

He's gone for a full five minutes, and Amelia and Toris begin to grow concerned for his safety. They don't hear any yelling or bickering though, so that's a reassuring sign.

Then, Feliks reappears and pushes the door open again. He's holding Maddie's flowers, and Amelia allows herself to feel a little touched on Madeline's behalf that Dr. Kirkland didn't tell Feliks to leave them or simply throw them out.

Dr. Kirkland is wearing the clothes he wore to work the other day—black trousers, a dress shirt, and a tie. He has his messenger bag since Amelia left it in his room before leaving last night. He doesn't, however, have his winter coat, as she didn't have the foresight to grab it from the clinic. At this rate, she won't be surprised if he manages to give himself pneumonia.

He seems fairly stable, but she knows all it takes is a second or two to lose one's balance, so she dares to put a hand on his upper arm to support him.

Naturally, he pulls away from her grip and mutters, "I'm fine."

"Do you want me to get you a blanket or something? It's cold out."

"No."

She rolls her eyes at him—something she would never dream of doing if they were in the clinic. She can let herself rebel since they're not at work. "You'll get hypothermia."

He ignores her and chooses to start walking to the elevators. She notices he's more heavy-footed than usual, but only by a little. It'd be hard to see if she didn't know him.

The four of them get into the elevator, and Feliks starts fishing through the apps on his phone before informing Dr. Kirkland, "I'll call a cab, just tell me where we're headed."

"I'm taking the train," Dr. Kirkland insists, leaving little opportunity for argument.

But Amelia isn't going to let him have the final say so easily. "You don't even have a coat. How are you going to walk to the train? If we call a cab, it can pick us up right in front of the hospital."

"No."

She doesn't like having to do this, but it's time to attack the one weakness he has—his pride. "Don't tell me you're so cheap that you don't want to pay for a cab."

It works. "It has nothing to do with the money—!" he fumes, but then, he relents, wearing himself out a bit from all of his frustration. "Fine."

Feliks calls, and when the cab arrives, it occurs to Amelia that she doesn't even have the slightest clue as to where Dr. Kirkland lives. He never talks about his personal life, and even once they get into the taxi, he seems to hesitate for a few seconds before rattling off his address to the driver, all-too-aware that he's now going to be forced to let them all in on more information than he ever wanted them to know.

He lives in a three-bedroom house in Queens, which means his commute to work is an hour long. She wonders why he doesn't just rent out a place closer to the clinic, but then she gets her answer when they get out of the cab and she sees how quiet the neighborhood is. Clearly, he prefers the isolation. Still, it seems like a lot of space for just one person.

He pays the driver and tiredly makes his way up the three front steps to the house. He fumbles with his keys for a minute, shivers when a gust of wind cuts through the air, and unlocks the door. He then goes inside and reluctantly invites them all in, looking uncomfortable as they come into the foyer.

"I'll—uhh—set the kettle for some tea?" he offers.

The house smells of worn books and something floral or herbal that Amelia can't quite describe. It's pleasant—certainly homely.

"No, no, no," Feliks cuts in, putting his hands on Dr. Kirkland's shoulders before steering him in the direction of the stairs. "You don't have to be a host. We'll figure out our way around. Go and rest."

"But there's—"

"Don't worry."

"I want to apologize for the mess, I didn't expect to have guests anytime soon and—"

Feliks chuckles, breaking some of the tension, and adds, "Lie down and pretend we're not here. We'll make the tea."

Dr. Kirkland lingers by the base of the stairs for a moment longer before surrendering with a tiny nod. "All right, but if the—"

"We've got it. Need help walking up?"

"No."

He hurries up the stairs to prove his point that he's apparently capable of functioning without their supervision, and when they hear a bedroom door open and close, that's when the three of them let out a breath of relief and let their guards down.

"I don't know how we did that, but it was magical," Feliks remarks, taking off his coat and boots. "Someone's going to have to go and check on him in like five minutes though to make sure he isn't working on anything."

"I'll do it," Amelia volunteers this time, feeling a little more courageous. "Toris can make the tea."

Toris frowns. "What kind of tea does he like?"

"Whatever he has around, I guess."

All of this is very surreal. If someone had told Amelia several months ago that she'd be standing in the middle of Dr. Arthur Kirkland's kitchen to help brew him some tea and nurse him back to health, she wouldn't have believed it. And yet, this is the position she has found herself in.

He, too, is human—who would've thought?

As Toris pours some water into the kettle and turns on the stove, she takes a moment to note how...barren everything looks—as though Dr. Kirkland doesn't spend a great deal of time at home. Everything is quite minimalistic. While there's food in the pantry and in the fridge, not a lot of time or thought has been put into the decor of the home. She doesn't see any family pictures. There's just a copy of Dr. Kirkland's work schedule attached to the front of the refrigerator along with a sticky note that has a few phone numbers scribbled on it. He does, however, have some old Christmas cards sitting on the mantelpiece in the living room, and Amelia recognizes one of the cards as the one she gave him after he treated her in the ER.

"He must get pretty lonely, don't you think?" she asks Toris as he's looking for a teacup in one of the kitchen cupboards.

"I don't think he's the type of person to mind," he replies. "He works with people all day anyway."

"I think he does mind, at least sometimes."

"Maybe."

"It's a little sad. When I was with him last night...I thought about how maybe I would've been the only one there for him if...if something more serious had happened. If I were in the hospital, I'd want to call my sister right away and have her be by my side, but he doesn't have anyone to call. Don't you think that's awful?"

"Like I said, I'm sure he doesn't mind as much as other people would."

Amelia frowns, unconvinced. She watches Toris and Feliks meander around a bit and listens to them talk about some kind of assignment they have to submit in a couple of days, and then, she figures she should check up on Dr. Kirkland to see if he's really resting because he's been left to his own devices for a while.

Her throat tightens a little as she leaves the kitchen and makes her way upstairs, careful not to make too much noise but also not to walk too quietly either so that he can hear her approach if he hasn't fallen asleep yet.

But of course, he's not sleeping. He's not even in his room, apparently. She catches him in the hallway, exiting the bathroom. He looks sallow and clammy again.

Once again, her fears take a backseat and get replaced with concern.

"Are you okay? Did you vomit?" she asks.

"I'm fine."

"That doesn't answer my second question."

He ignores her and simply ambles back to his bedroom, whereupon he shuts the door and locks it.

Amelia feels red hot anger bubble up in her gut. How dare he dismiss her like that when she's trying to help? Well, she's not going to allow herself to be treated like this, and she doesn't care if he wants to fire her after what she's about to do.

She pounds her fist against the door and shouts, "Hey! I asked you a question! If you don't want to accept our help, then you can just go back to the hospital! I'll call 911! Don't think I won't! I don't care—I don't have to be here! I'm just doing it to be nice, and this is the thanks I get!"

There's a long pause of silence. Then, the lock gets turned and the door comes swinging open.

Dr. Kirkland looks disapprovingly at her, green eyes drilling into her blue ones, and asks, "Did you just threaten me?"

"I threatened to have you hospitalized again—so yes," she responds, unable to hold back. She's definitely going to lose her job now. Why can't she control her big mouth?

He stares at her incredulously, and she expects him to kick her out of his house and tell her she can't ever come back to the clinic again.

She's prepared for something dreadful.

She isn't, however, prepared for laughter.

It starts off as a chuckle, which then evolves into a whole-hearted fit of laughs. It must be the concussion—it's making him crazy and now he has officially lost his mind.

When he calms, he shakes his head lightly and says, "You'll do just fine."

What's that supposed to mean?

"I knew there was something different about you," he adds, walking back into the room and taking a seat on the edge of his bed. As with the rest of the house, the bedroom is minimalistic and feels hollow aside from the many books adorning the shelves on the walls. He takes down one of these books with the intention of reading it, but Amelia is quick to pull it out of his grasp and confiscates it.

"You can read when you've recovered."

"Now I regret asking to be discharged," he grumbles, but he doesn't continue to argue. He rubs his temples, and then, he abruptly lurches forward and rushes out of the room again.

She steps aside and watches him stumble into the bathroom. He slams the door shut, but she can still hear the muffled sound of him retching. Well, at least that finally answers her previous question.

She gets him a glass of water and patiently waits for him to come out, which takes about ten minutes. He's significantly paler, and he keeps massaging his forehead, trying to chase the ache away.

"Did you take your meds yet?"

"No."

"You should take them," she suggests before handing him the glass, "but take something for the nausea first."

He smirks dryly at her advice, amused that she's trying to tell him how to treat himself. He takes the water from her with a small nod of thanks and mumbles, "I'd rather not be incapacitated for the rest of the day."

Ahh, so that's the problem then—he doesn't want to be in an impaired state around them.

"You're at home. What's the big deal? Feliks, Toris, and I will be around to make sure things are okay. You can trust us—I know we're not real professionals yet, but we will be soon enough. It's not like we'll let you aspirate or fall down the stairs. Take the medications and don't worry."

It's clear from the expression on his face that he's not too fond of the idea of placing his trust in anyone, but still, he mutters a defeated "okay" and goes through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom before finding the pills he's in need of and swallowing them with the water.

They're making progress.

He downs the cup of tea Toris brings him a few minutes later, and then, he drifts off to sleep against his will and doesn't wake up until Feliks risks rousing him for lunch.

Dr. Hedervary was right—he's docile on the medication and doesn't attempt to get out of bed, which makes their jobs a whole lot easier.

There isn't much else to do while the man's asleep, so they watch the T.V. in the living room and play charades with Felik's phone until the sun starts going down and their stomachs start rumbling for dinner. Around six o'clock, there's a knock on the door, and it's Dr. Beilschmidt. He reprieves them of their duties, but they don't leave right away because where would the fun in that be?

Instead, they order Chinese food and hang around for a bit longer. By the time they're finished eating, Dr. Kirkland is up and about again. In fact, he comes downstairs and asks why the house smells like egg rolls and fried rice.

Dr. Beilschmidt confronts his question with another question. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Please feel free to elaborate. Any nausea? Dizziness? Headache? Tinnitus?"

"No."

"Uh-huh, well, I don't believe you, so I'm gonna ask you the question again when the kiddos are gone. Try to get your story straight by then," Dr. Beilschmidt says teasingly, munching on the last egg roll. "Want something to eat? We ordered some soup for you."

"I'm not hungry at the moment."

"Well, you have to eat. Want me to feed you?"

Dr. Kirkland turns bright red and snarls, "Stay away from me!"

Looks like the pain medication has stopped working. He was so nice and complacent earlier.

Therefore, that means it's time for Amelia, Feliks, and Toris to leave and let Dr. Beilschmidt handle the drama. They help clean up after their short feast and call it a night, not wanting to witness any more of what is bound to turn into a full-blown argument.

And well, if Dr. Kirkland's well enough to be arguing again, then they can rest assured that he's going to be just fine.

But, just as they're heading out the door, he stops them to say, "Thank you—all of you."

Maddie was right after all.

They've made it onto his good side.

The thought makes Amelia smile, and she doesn't stop smiling until she's all the way back home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Look, guys, we made it to the end! I told you it would happen eventually, haha! Thanks for supporting this little fic and many thanks to everyone who left a review! I really appreciate it, and I hope you guys were able to enjoy it!

Lots of love,

-Mandelene

* * *

By the following Monday, Dr. Kirkland is back to his usual self, and by that, Amelia means that: he's back to complaining about the glitches in the computer system that often interfere with his charting, he scolds the students that come to him with menial or feigned illnesses because they want to get out of their exams, and, most importantly, he's back to handling some of the real and more serious ailments of his patients. As much as he may be hated by a portion of the student population, there's no better place on campus to seek quick treatment than the clinic, and everyone knows that.

In fact, Amelia is certain their reputation must still be quite good because a young man with jet black hair whom she recognizes from one of her labs comes in, looking for a job. He must have heard some of the tales and rumors that have permeated through the nursing and medical departments.

"Hey, there! Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?" Amelia cheerfully asks, trying to sound as friendly as possible since this boy appears to be a ball of nerves.

"Umm, I'm actually looking for a position?"

Does he realize what he's getting himself into? Perhaps she should warn him that this job isn't for the faint of heart.

"You're a med student, right? I think I've seen you around before in biochem."

"Y-Yes, that's right. My name is Kiku Honda."

"Nice to meet you, Kiku! You'll have to talk to Dr. Kirkland. He doesn't usually hire people in the middle of the semester like this, but we're kinda short-staffed at the moment, so he might make an exception," Amelia explains.

"Dr. Beilschmidt isn't here?" the boy asks, looking deflated.

"No, he's here on Wednesdays and Thursdays. He selects the nursing students that work in the clinic, not the medical students."

"Oh…I see."

She considers how she was standing here around six months ago and how she had done this on a whim—never expecting anything to come out of it. She also remembers how coldly she was first received by Francine and how she has learned since then that even the people one dislikes have their own problems and stories. She was able to give Francine a second chance, and for that, she's glad. You never know what letting a person into your life can teach you, and she has learned so much from being here.

She thinks about the friends she has made—Toris, Feliks, Francine, Dr. Belischmidt, and, dare she say it, Dr. Kirkland. She has gotten to know them and has respect and admiration for each of them.

As such, she hopes this young man knows the kind of responsibility that's going to be put on his shoulders if he gets the job—how he'll not only have to look out for the patients, but also for his fellow co-workers because they'll be with him through thick and thin. He doesn't know what kind of adventure he's signing himself up for. Then again, how could he? You don't really understand what it's like to work in this clinic until you actually do it.

And, as if to prove her point, a girl around her age shyly walks through the front door, head hung in shame. Her shoulders are trembling with the force of sobs, and there are tears dripping off of her nose and chin. She's wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a wrinkled blouse and cardigan, and it looks as if she came here in a rush.

Immediately, Amelia knows this is more serious than a cold or sprained ankle. She can sense that there's something deeply troubling this girl.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asks her, rising from her chair and going to stand beside the girl. She puts a hand on her shoulder, and the girl instantly flinches as a result. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you…Why don't you take a seat, and I'll get—"

"What's going on?" Dr. Kirkland interjects as he's exiting one of the exam rooms and comes out into the waiting area. He, too, seems to sense that this is something important. His eyes dart over the girl's figure, searching for clues as to what's bothering her.

But when the girl sees him, she takes a step back and chokes out another sob.

Dr. Kirkland's expression softens, and he seems to understand something that Amelia and Kiku don't. "Amelia, contact the campus counseling center, please, and have them send someone over."

Amelia furrows her brows in confusion but nods her head obligingly. She starts to make her way back to the desk, but Dr. Kirkland stops her as she's walking past him and adds quietly, "And make sure the person they send is a woman."

Oh…

She picks up the phone and searches for the number to the office. In the meantime, Dr. Kirkland hands the distraught girl some tissues and asks in the gentlest tone Amelia has ever heard him use if she'd like to go into one of the exam rooms or wait out here.

She agrees to go to one of the rooms, hands shaking as she wipes her face with tissues, and that's when Amelia notices the purple bruises banding around her wrists…An altercation with a boyfriend maybe?

It's not any of her business, but Amelia feels a boulder form in her throat anyway. Once she gets in touch with someone at the counseling center and tells them there's a student in the clinic that has experienced something traumatic, she tries to regain her composure and go about business as usual. She's sure this isn't the first time someone has come into the clinic in such a state, and she's confident Dr. Kirkland will know what to do—he somehow always does. Amelia isn't sure that she'd even have the courage to talk to the girl about what happened let alone help treat her.

She turns her attention back to Kiku to distract herself. He's still standing in the waiting area, looking confused and somewhat frightened.

"Sorry about that. Now isn't really a good time...How about you leave your email and phone number, and I'll tell Dr. Kirkland to get back to you?" she suggests.

"Yes, of course. I understand," Kiku murmurs, swiftly writing down his information down on a sticky note before handing it to Amelia. "Thank you for your time."

"Sure thing. Thanks for your interest and for stopping by."

"…If you don't mind me asking, do these types of situations happen often?" he asks her timidly.

"There's always something going on, if that's what you mean. You kinda have to be prepared for anything. Sometimes, that can be a good thing though. You'll definitely gain a lot of experience."

Kiku nods and looks a little less overwhelmed and a bit more determined instead. "Thank you again."

"Mm-hmm."

He walks out the door, and Amelia allows herself a deep breath. She has the feeling that any second now, she's going to be needed, and she's definitely not ready for it.

Sure enough, she hears Dr. Kirkland calling her name no more than a minute later.

She treads down the hallway and pauses outside of exam room two, where he is waiting for her. The expression on his face is solemn, and it makes Amelia want to run in the other direction.

"Do me a favor and sit with this patient for a moment before the counselor arrives," he requests, turning her worries into reality.

How is she supposed to sit with this girl after god knows what she's been through? She's not sweet and empathetic like Feliks or Toris are. She's a bumbling, oblivious med student, and she's not in any position to be of any real use to anyone, even if it's just for emotional support.

Nonetheless, she forces herself to go into the room and plasters an uncertain smile on her face. Wait, she shouldn't be smiling. This girl must be feeling miserable. She might think her smile is rude or—

"H-Hi," she manages to say, and she immediately wants to slap herself for being so awkward. Surely, she can do better than _that_? This is why she didn't go to nursing school—she's not good at connecting with people on a deeper level. "My name's Amelia, and I'm a medical student here. Is there anything I could get you?"

The girl looks at her with puffy pink eyes and shakes her head. "No. Thanks, though…I'm not fragile or anything. You don't have to be high-strung."

"Right. Sorry. If there's anything I could do for you though, don't hesitate to ask okay?"

The girl looks at her with curious eyes and asks, "Is that your natural hair color?"

"Uhh—" Amelia has to stop to clear her throat because that was one question she wasn't expecting. "Yeah, it is."

"It's really pretty."

"Thank you," she replies with a more pronounced smile. Then, she finds a way to return the compliment. "I love your coral pink nails. That's a really cute color."

"Thanks, I did them myself. I tried to follow an online tutorial, but they didn't come out as nice as the ones in the video," she says with a weak laugh.

"I still think they're cool. Besides, perfection is overrated, and the person who made that tutorial probably took ages to get it done just right."

"Yeah, that's probably true."

"Did you ever see those caviar nails? I tried to do it one time by buying the pearls separately, and it was a disaster. I was picking up beads off of the floor for hours because they spilled everywhere," Amelia recalls. "I think I have a picture…Hang on."

She sorts through a number of selfies before she finds the image of the ugly mess of rainbow beads scattered hap hazardously on her nails and across her bedroom floor. Maddie was _so_ angry with her when she saw the aftermath.

The girl peers at the picture and giggles, "That reminds me a little of when I tried to do ombre nails. It turned out to be hideous."

"I think the lesson we should learn from this is that we should stick to the boring and old-fashioned way of doing nails."

"Hey, sometimes the classic way is the best way."

"I agree," Amelia laughs, heart feeling lighter.

This is how it's done, then. How do you talk to someone when they're at their most vulnerable?

 _You treat them like a person_ , Amelia tells herself.

* * *

She's used to Tuesdays being a little slow. As the only one at the front desk, it's fairly quiet this time of the week. Students tend to gravitate toward visiting the clinic on Mondays—often after a wild weekend—or on Fridays—at which point they've usually been suffering for the whole week and have finally decided to seek help.

So, when Toris and Feliks walk into the clinic, she thinks she's gotten her days of the week mixed up.

"You guys aren't working today, right?" she asks them, but then she sees that Toris has the right leg of a pair of sweatpants pulled up to reveal a compression bandage wrapped around his knee.

"I took Toris bike riding, and it didn't turn out so great," Feliks explains, unable to hold back a chuckle.

"It would have been fine if that squirrel hadn't jumped out at me!" Toris whines, looking incredibly embarrassed.

Feliks laughs some more at his expense and wipes a happy tear from his eye. "We were in the park and this crazy squirrel jumped in front of him. Toris swerved out of the way to keep from running it over and took a pretty bad fall downhill. On the bright side, the squirrel was fine."

"Thanks, it's good to know you're concerned about _my_ wellbeing," Toris huffs, limping over to one of the chairs in the waiting area. "This is not how I wanted to spend my Tuesday afternoon. I thought going for a bike ride after class would have been _relaxing_."

Feliks pats his back reassuringly. "Don't worry, Dr. K will fix you up. You can fit us in, right Amelia?"

Amelia bobs her head enthusiastically and hands Toris a patient form to fill out. "Yeah, of course. There's always time for you guys. Sorry about the daredevil squirrel, Toris…How bad is it?"

Toris nibbles on his lip anxiously and says, "I'm probably going to need stitches."

"Ugh, that really blows. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault but thanks."

Feliks frowns at them. "Since everyone's getting sick or injured this year, does that mean I'm next?"

"Yeah, you'd better sleep with one eye open," Amelia warns.

"Don't even joke around like that!"

Dr. Kirkland must hear their exchange from his office because he stops whatever he's been doing at his desk to come and investigate. When he sees that it's only Feliks and Toris, he smirks and asks, "Do I want to know what happened?"

"Probably not," Feliks admits cheekily, "but we're going to tell you anyway."

"Lovely," Dr. Kirkland sighs, but there's also an exasperated smile on his face. He beckons the boys to follow him and holds open the door to the first exam room for them. As they filter in, he adds, "You're welcome to join us, Amelia. I doubt you'll want to miss this."

She doesn't need any more convincing. She tags along and shoots Toris an encouraging grin when she sees how nervous he is. He's always been uneasy around Dr. Kirkland compared to Dr. Beilschmidt, but he's been making good progress at overcoming his fears in the past several weeks.

He seats himself on the exam table, awkwardly recounts how a squirrel ruined his day to Dr. Kirkland, and then watches with growing apprehension as the man carefully undoes the compression bandage to see how bad the damage is.

And well, to put it lightly, his knee is one bloody mess. He's got a long laceration running down the center, and it makes Amelia a little sick to her stomach. She refuses to let herself feel faint this time. She's supposed to be getting more resistant and desensitized to this kind of stuff, so the more exposure she gets, the better.

Dr. Kirkland tsks, pulls on some gloves, and cleans up the area surrounding the cut first. Then, he examines it a little longer, tries to determine how deep it is, and concludes, "It's going to require stitches, unfortunately. I'll get you a local anesthetic."

Toris swallows thickly and lets out the tiniest hum of agreement.

"I'm never letting you bike with me again," Feliks remarks as Dr. Kirkland rummages through some drawers and cabinets for supplies. "From now on, we're only doing accident-proof stuff."

Toris darkens his gaze. "I always have bad luck around you for some reason."

"Must be because you're, like, always enchanted by my good looks."

"Sure, that's definitely the reason."

Amelia tries to contain her laughter and sees Dr. Kirkland shake his head slightly in disbelief as he preps the syringe he'll be working with. He fills it with a plentiful dose of lidocaine.

Meanwhile, Toris grips the edge of the exam table with his fingers and screws his eyes shut, afraid to watch.

"This will be easier if you lie back, lad," Dr. Kirkland instructs, and Toris reluctantly uncurls his tense fingers from the padding of the table and lies down. "It'll be over before you know it."

Toris winces a little, but that's the only indication that he's in any pain when he gets the injection. As promised, it's quick, and then, Dr. Kirkland disposes of the needle and murmurs, "Let me know when the numbness starts setting in."

While they all wait, Feliks lightly punches Toris in the shoulder and says, "You'll have a fun story to tell once this is all over."

"There's nothing fun about it," Toris complains.

"Sure there is, and, think about it, if you ever need a letter of recommendation from Dr. K, he can mention what a selfless guy you are for sacrificing your knee to save a squirrel's life."

Dr. Kirkland chuckles as he's readying the sutures. "Yes, this is a shining example of your benevolence for others."

"Speaking of letters of recommendation," Feliks tries to cleverly transition. "Could I by any chance get one for a hospital I'm trying to volunteer at for the summer?"

"When do you need it by?"

"Preferably by next month."

"Okay. Send me an email to remind me," Dr. Kirkland says, and Feliks seems surprised that asking him turned out to be so easy.

"Will do. Thanks."

"That goes for you two as well," Dr. Kirkland continues, referring to Amelia and Toris. "I'd appreciate at least a two-week notice if either of you need a reference letter."

It's official—their dreams have been realized. There's hope.

Getting a good reference was Amelia's main reason for wanting this job, and, in retrospect, that was definitely narrow-minded of her. She should have had better intentions to begin with. She wonders if Dr. Kirkland thinks this is the only reason people agree to work with him—so they can use his name to their advantage on a cover letter or list of references. He wouldn't be entirely wrong, of course, but she hopes he knows that Feliks, Toris, and herself aren't just here to serve their time long enough to get recognition for it. It's not all about the brownie points.

"All right, Toris, how are you feeling? Have you lost sensation in your knee yet?"

"I-I think so," Toris mumbles, glancing at his still bleeding knee by raising his head a little.

"In that case, I'm going to get started. Stop me if you feel any pain."

"Okay."

Amelia forces herself to watch, even though she knows she's going to find it gross. Ninety-five percent of everything that goes on in the medical field is gross, so if she can't handle watching some stitches get put in, how's she going to deal with the hundreds of things that are a million times worse than this?

"Feeling all right?" Dr. Kirkland asks Toris as he secures the first suture.

"Y-Yeah."

"You might want to consider wearing kneepads next time."

"…I'm just glad I had my helmet," Toris mutters, forehead turning a little clammy from nerves. Overall, he's become much more relaxed and open since Amelia first met him. She remembers when he couldn't even look Dr. Kirkland in the eyes let alone allow him to do something like this for him.

Dr. Kirkland threads another suture through his skin, making it look easy as the arched needle smoothly glides in and pulls the laceration closed.

"So, how many times do you think you've done this?" Feliks asks out of curiosity—and to lighten the atmosphere for Toris.

"Oh, too many times to count," Dr. Kirkland replies, now more than halfway done. "It might interest you to know that the first person I ever gave stitches to was my brother."

"How'd that happen?"

"I had returned home for Christmas during the first year of my residency, and my oldest brother, Patrick, slipped while putting up some lights on the roof."

Feliks sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. "Yikes."

"He cut his arm but refused to go to a clinic or hospital. However, he was willing to allow me to help—god knows why. It healed, and he didn't develop an infection, so I considered it a success, though it certainly wasn't my best work."

"Wow, weren't you scared though? Like, doing that on your own brother must have been stressful."

"He asked for it," Dr. Kirkland scoffs before shrugging his shoulders. "I told him he wouldn't be at liberty to complain if he wasn't satisfied with my help. At any rate, I supposed it's better to practice on one's sibling than on strangers who are more likely to sue for malpractice should one make a mistake. Though my brothers and I have our fair share of gripes, I don't think they'd take me to court…at least, not as of yet."

"How comforting," Toris says sarcastically, smiling. He seems less panicky now, thanks to the distraction. It's really incredible how much he's been coming out of his shell.

Dr. Kirkland finishes putting in the last suture, cuts away the excess thread with scissors, and bandages the area before saying, "The stitches will have to stay in place for about a week. You can come in next Tuesday to have them removed. Try to keep your knee elevated to reduce the swelling and take some ibuprofen when you get home. If you notice any discoloration, increased pain, or discharge, please let me know."

"Okay, thank you. I'm really sorry for taking up your time," Toris says as he sits up.

"It's no trouble."

With that Toris and Feliks leave, and Amelia tries to follow them, planning to see them out, but Dr. Kirkland stops her for a moment.

"I've been contacted by a student who's interested in working at the clinic," he tells her.

"Kiku?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"He came in yesterday, but we were busy."

He nods his head, understanding, and says, "I wanted to ask your opinion of him. I've scheduled an interview for Friday, but I thought it would be wise to first ask you if you'd feel comfortable working with someone else."

"Yeah, sure, it's not a problem! The more, the merrier, right?"

He smiles. "Yes, I suppose so. Thank you for being open to the idea."

"Thanks for checking in with me," Amelia says, genuinely surprised that her opinion even matters to him. They've all changed, haven't they? And it's the good kind of change.

Dr. Kirkland nods, makes his way out of the room, and orders, "Make sure Feliks doesn't tease Toris too much."

Amelia laughs and gives him a thumbs-up, "Don't worry, I'm on it."

* * *

"You're in a good mood today."

It's hard to contain the cheesy grin on her face as Amelia regards her sister across the kitchen table. The birds have started chirping outside, the sun is out, and the world seems a little brighter now that it's almost summer and final exams are over. "Of course, I'm in a good mood. How could I not be? We survived another semester of school and made it through all of our classes. I think we've earned ourselves a glass of champagne and a great dinner that I cooked from the goodness of my heart."

"I still can't believe you cooked this all by yourself. Are you sure you didn't order this off of some app?" Madeline jokes, impressed by the fresh tilapia Amelia prepared along with actual vegetables and mango salsa. Considering the junk food Amelia usually reaches for, this is a pleasant surprise for both of them.

"I told you I've been watching too many cooking shows. I'm basically a world-renown chef now, cooking all of these fancy five-star meals. You've got some competition."

"I can see that," Madeline giggles before raising her glass of champagne. "A toast, then? To the end of a successful school year?"

"Yup, and let's hope things keep going well," Amelia agrees, clinking her glass against her sister's before taking a sip. "Ahh, this is awesome. I almost feel like I've conquered adulthood, but I know I shouldn't get too cocky."

"When you stop asking me to file your taxes, then I'll consider you a real adult."

"Touché."

They start to eat, and Amelia must admit she's quite proud of the job she's done. This may be the best meal she's ever cooked yet, and it could even compete with some of Maddie's masterpieces.

But of course, they can't have nice things for long. Five minutes into the meal, Maddie has to put her fork down and take a sip of water to rid herself of a scratchy feeling in her throat. She then touches her lips and murmurs, "Amelia, I don't want to scare you, but I think I'm having an allergic reaction to something."

Amelia jumps out of her chair and rushes over to her, "Are you having trouble breathing? Does it feel like your throat is constricting?"

"No, everything just feels kinda itchy, and my bottom lip feels swollen."

"Okay, hang on," Amelia says calmly, trying her best to reassure her. She gets an antihistamine from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, has Madeline take it, and stays by her side to make sure her condition doesn't worsen, and fortunately, it doesn't. "I swear I didn't put anything that you haven't had before in the food. Even the mango salsa is just diced mangos, red peppers, red onions, cilantro, and some jalapeño."

"It's okay, I believe you," Maddie assures her, already feeling a little better after taking the allergy medication. "I think it was something in the champagne."

"No more partying for you."

"Darn."

They both laugh, and the heavy weight of concern in Amelia's heart starts to get lighter now that she knows Maddie is going to be okay.

"You know, you probably don't see it, but what you just did—how you reacted, I mean—it's proof you're becoming a real doctor. You handled all of that really well."

"Guess I've learned a thing or two after all, huh?"

"I think it's safe to say you've learned at least ten things," Maddie teases.

Amelia rolls her eyes, takes Maddie's glass of champagne away, and replaces it with some white wine instead. "Here, don't get sick from this, okay?"

"I'll try not to, but even if I do, I'm confident you'll save me."

"Stop it, Maddie. I'm serious."

"So am I."

* * *

Summer means a break from the madness. No more exams. No more staying up until 3 AM to finish assignments. No more reading about diabetes prevention for ten whole chapters.

But it also means she'll be away from the clinic for a while.

Dr. Kirkland asks her if she'd be willing to come back in the fall, which is when she would be working (and probably orienting) Kiku. Though Kiku landed himself the job months ago, he's not starting until September.

Amelia doesn't have to think about her decision. Of course she's coming back to the clinic next semester. She wouldn't give this job up for anything, and she makes sure to let Dr. Kirkland know that.

Her enthusiasm must impress him because he makes another proposal as well.

"The hospital I work at runs a summer program for medical students that allows them to shadow physicians on various units and gain experience by helping out with patients. Would that be something you might be interested in doing? I can put in a good word for you and make certain your application is seen," he offers.

Pinch her. She's dreaming. She must be.

"Yes, I'm interested," she immediately answers, heart racing. "Thank you so much."

"Excellent. I'll send you further information. I think you'd make a good candidate."

She's not sure whether to smile or cry. It seems like everything is finally coming together, and though hardly anyone believed in her less than a year ago, she's so happy she held out for this long and proved all of the naysayers wrong. She's ready to take on whatever gets thrown at her next.

All of her classmates who said cruel things behind her back may have book-smarts, but they haven't been through what she has experienced. They haven't truly seen how they have the potential to shape patients' lives. They don't understand the kind of strength and responsibility it takes to rely on yourself to help someone in need. And really, those are the most important parts of practicing medicine. A textbook won't explain how to comfort someone who's in pain or has been through trauma.

Medicine isn't just pills and telling someone what to do to feel better. A lot of it runs much deeper than that, and though it took Amelia some time to realize this, she gets it now. It's being there for someone when they're hurt, alone, or scared. It's giving them hope that things will get better. It's being the person someone can confide in and ask for help when there's no one else around.

It's working with a team and knowing everyone's strengths and weaknesses so you can work around them to provide the best possible care.

And sometimes, it's admitting that you don't always have an answer or solution, but that you'll do whatever you can to find one.

These are the things professors won't teach because they can't be taught. They need to be felt and experienced. They need to fill your heart and make you feel grief, anger, and helplessness before you can learn. It's hard to know how powerless one is until someone is lying unconscious in front of them. But each time it happens, there's a little more power—a chance to do better this time.

"Is everything all right?" Dr. Kirkland asks, worried by her silence.

"Yes. It's great. It's…It's a privilege to be here."

And so, Amelia's not going anywhere. She's going to keep trying and learning so that one day, she will have enough power to save someone's life and to tell their family that their loved one is going to be okay. They might think it's a miracle, or the doing of God, or something else, but Amelia will know it to be the result of years of practice and tenacity—years of learning how to accomplish what's seemingly impossible.

After all, that's what real doctors do.


End file.
